YELLOWLEAF 

SACHA  GREGORY 


Yellowleaf 


Yellowleaf 


By 

Sacha  Gregory 


Philadelphia  Gf  London 

J.  B.  Lippincott  Company 

1919 


COPYRIGHT,   1919,   BY  J.   B.  tIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 


PRINTED  BY  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 

AT  THE  WASHINGTON  SQUARE  PRESS 

PHILADELPHIA,  U.  S.  A. 


YELLOWLEAF 

CHAPTER  I 


LADY  MARY  DAM  PIERRE  sat  by  the  fire  in  the  low, 
irregular  shaped  drawing-room  of  Yellowleaf,  her 
house  in  St.  John's  Wood. 

She  was  tired,  and  had  pushed  away  the  great 
embroidery-frame  that  seemed  almost  as  much  a  part 
of  her  as  did  the  luxurious,  complicated  wheel-chair, 
out  of  which  her  grandchildren,  Jim  and  Picotee, 
could  not  remember  having  seen  her. 

Against  the  black  velvet  cushion  at  her  back  her 
little  old  face  looked  almost  like  that  of  a  statue,  but 
it  was  the  colour  of  the  golden  marble  loved  by  the 
Greek  sculptors  in  the  golden  period  of  Athens.  Her 
eyes,  her  commanding,  glowing  eyes,  were  closed,  thus 
making  prominent  the  chief  peculiarity  of  her  striking 
old  face — the  extreme  length  and  silkiness  of  her 
lashes. 

The  firelight,  flickering  over  her,  while  it  revealed 
the  thousand  lines  and  wrinkles  in  her  delicate  skin, 
showed  also,  by  the  unbroken,  unindented  sweep  of 
her  jaw-bone  from  chin  to  ear,  that  her  teeth,  the  roots 
at  least,  were  still  there.  One  small  shrivelled  hand 
lay  on  each  arm  of  the  chair,  and  many  diamonds 
glittered  on  them,  and  one  magnificent  ruby.  In  the 

5 


2135856 


6  YELLOWLEAF 

November  dusk  which  still  crept  in  at  the  windows, 
and  the  strong,  warm  light  of  the  log-fire,  rising  and 
falling  almost  rhythmically  in  the  still  air,  this  old 
woman,  in  her  perfect  immobility,  made  a  singular 
picture,  and,  when  a  second  human  being  entered  the 
room  and  padded  noiselessly  across  the  uneven  floor, 
he  added  to,  rather  than  detracted  from,  the  odd, 
dramatic  quality  of  the  picture. 

This  second  person,  who,  drew  up,  unheeded  by  the 
old  lady,  at  the  opposite  side  of  the  fireplace,  had  seen 
nearly  as  many  years  as  she  herself,  and  his  peculiarly 
thick  and  vital-looking  hair  was  as  white  as  her  own. 
This  old  man  was  Mrs.  James  Dampierre's  butler, 
Bruno  Anselmi,  who  had  been  first  in  the  old  lady's 
service,  then  in  that  of  her  son,  Captain  Jim,  and  was 
now,  six  years  after  the  young  man's  death,  in  his 
widow's.  Man  and  boy,  Bruno  had  obeyed  and 
admired  Lady  Mary  over  fifty  years. 

One  of  the  ample  Georgian  windows  was  behind 
the  old  lady's  chair,  and  between  it  and  her  stood  a 
six-foot  Cordova  leather  screen,  three-ply  and  solid. 
This  screen,  curving  round  the  wheel-chair,  formed 
what  was  known  to  the  family  as  "  Grandmother's," 
and  to  the  servants,  the  "  Old  Lady's,"  Corner ;  asked 
suddenly  to  write  down  the  phrase,  the  chances  are 
that,  out  of  the  ten  members  of  the  household,  at  least 
eight  would  have  given  the  word  a  capital  C,  for  the 
corner  had  become,  during  the  ten  years  of  Lady 
Mary's  inability  to  move,  something  between  a  house- 
hold shrine  and  a  market-place.  Everything  that  hap- 
pened at  Yellowleaf  happened  in  this  corner,  and  now 


YELLOWLEAF  7 

old  Bruno,  as  he  stood  there,  small,  narrow-shouldered, 
of  an  almost  Saracen-like  bronziness  of  complexion, 
knew  himself  to  be  on  the  point  of  stage-managing 
another  important  event. 

Round  the  corner  an  invisible  clock  ticked  weight- 
ily; a  taxi  sped  past  the  house  swiftly  through  greasy 
mud;  upstairs  a  door  slammed;  and  these  things  made 
the  silence  that  he  had  come  to  break  seem  to  the  old 
man  something  palpable  and  solid. 

With  the  sensitiveness  to  impression  of  his  race, 
and  the  loyalty  and  self -dedication  to  the  family  he 
served  characteristic  of  all  Latin  countries,  he  shivered 
suddenly  as  he  stood  there  looking  at  his  sleeping 
mistress. 

She  was  resting,  and  her  mind  was  at  peace;  her 
perilously  nearly  worn-out  old  heart  was,  he  knew, 
beating  quietly  under  the  beautiful  lace  crossed  over 
her  still  shapely  breast;  and  he  must  waken  her  to 
give  to  her  tidings  that  he  knew  to  be  very  bad.  For 
a  moment  it  seemed  almost  impossible  for  him  to 
speak;  then,  with  an  effort,  he  opened  his  mouth,  the 
firelight  showing  the  edges  of  his  exquisitely  white 
teeth,  and  was  about  to  say  her  name  when  the  old 
lady  opened  her  eyes  and  looked  at  him. 

"  Is  it  Mr.  Aghassy  ?  "  she  asked  quietly  in  Italian. 

And  in  the  same  language  he  answered ;  "  Yes, 
Your  Excellency," 

"  Where  is  Mrs.  Dampierre  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Dampierre  has  not  come  in.  She's  at  the 
Zoo  with  the  children." 

The  old  lady  drew  herself  up  in  her  chair,  and 


8  YELLOWLEAF 

swung  the  great  embroidery-frame  into  its  place  over 
her  lap. 

"Turn  on  the  light  behind  me,"  she  said;  "and 
show  Mr.  Aghassy  in." 

The  old  man  obeyed  and  the  light  burst  out,  leaving 
her  far  in  the  shadow  of  the  screen,  but  lying  like 
brilliant  sunlight  on  the  chair  opposite  her.  As  he 
came  round  from  behind  the  screen,  he  went  on  in  a 
grieved,  worried  voice :  "  He  has  brought  lilies  again." 
He  used  the  word  mughetti — lilies  of  the  valley. 

The  old  lady  nodded.  "  I  know.  Show  him  in 
now,  and  bring  in  tea." 

A  moment  later  from  around  the  corner  came  a 
flood  of  light  and  sound  of  footsteps,  and  Jacques 
Aghassy  the  pianist  was  bowing,  rather  lower  than 
usual,  to  the  old  lady  behind  her  palisade  of  wood,  and 
canvas,  and  gay-coloured  silks. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Aghassy  ?  "  she  began,  point- 
ing to  the  chair.  "  What  beautiful  lilies!  " 

She  spoke  in  French  and,  as  the  man  obeyed  her 
and  sat  down,  his  face  darkened  with  an  annoyance 
that  was  very  near  anger. 

"  I  brought  the  lilies  for  Mrs.  Dampierre,"  he 
answered  in  English,  holding  them  in  his  hand,  in- 
stead of  putting  them  on  the  table  near  his  chair. 

"  My  daughter  is  at  the  Zoological  Gardens  with 
her  children,"  Lady  Mary  went  on  with  an  amiable 
smile,  threading  her  needle  with  a  long  bit  of  crimson 
silk.  Again  she  spoke  in  French,  and,  once  more, 
Aghassy  answered  without  comment  in  English. 

"  I  had  not  the  pleasure  of  knowing  that  your 
daughter,  Mrs.  Pugh-Garnett,  was  in  town." 


YELLOWLEAF  9 

His  voice  was  very  suave,  but  the  old  lady  per- 
ceived with  malicious  enjoyment  that  his  irritation 
was  increasing,  as  she  would  have  expressed  it,  by 
"  leaps  and  bounds." 

"  My  daughter,  Mrs.  Pugh-Garnett,  is  not  in  town," 
she  replied,  her  voice  expressing  the  amiable  wish  to 
give  him  all  the  information  he  might  wish  about  the 
movements  of  the  different  members  of  her  family. 
"  I  was  speaking  of  my  daughter,  Mrs.  Dampierre." 

He  raised  his  eyebrows,  which  were  beautifully 
marked  and  extended  rather  far  down  his  temples. 

She  laughed,  something  more  like  dimples  than 
wrinkles  breaking  the  contour  of  her  old  cheeks. 

"  An  unfriendly,  cold-worded  phrase,  '  in-law.'  If 
my  son  had  married  a  woman  I  could  not  love,  I 
should  not  have  called  her  daughter  at  all.  I  should 
have  spoken  of  her  as  '  my  son's  wife.' ' 

There  was  a  pause,  during  which  the  two  looked 
at  each  other  with  strong  dislike,  but  the  unwilling 
respect  that  every  strong  soul  feels  for  a  worthy 
antagonist. 

"  Mr.  Aghassy,"  Lady  Mary  began  suddenly,  but 
with  a  curious  effect  of  not  speaking  abruptly.  "  I  am 
an  old  woman,  and  I  am  very  outspoken." 

Her  French  was  perfect,  but  after  a  pause,  during 
which  he  laid  his  flowers  gently  on  the  table,  he 
answered,  in  English  once  more : 

"  I  am  not  an  old  man,  and  I  am  not  outspoken. 
However,  I  am  entirely  at  the  disposal  of  Lady  Mary 
Dampierre.  I  listen." 

She  laughed,  and  her  little  teeth  gleamed. 


10  YELLOWLEAF 

"  And  that,  you  think,"  she  said  gently,  "  is  Eng- 
lish ! — '  I  am  at  the  disposal  of  Lady  Mary  Dampierre. 
I  listen ' ! " 

Aghassy  flushed,  and  leaning  forward,  his  elbows 
on  his  knees,  rolled  his  dogskin  gloves  carefully  to- 
gether before  he  answered. 

"  It  amuses  you,"  he  returned,  "  to  pretend  that  I 
am  not  English,  but  that  is  of  small  consequence.  I 
have  come  to  tell  you  that  I  am  once  more  going  to  ask 
your  daughter-in-law,  Mrs.  James  Dampierre,  to  marry 
me." 

There  was  another  silence,  at  the  end  of  which  the 
soft  shuffling  footsteps  of  Bruno  came  down  the  length 
of  the  room,  and  the  old  man  appeared,  carrying  the 
tea-tray. 

Lady  Mary  nodded. 

"  I  know,"  she  returned.  "  She  will  not  marry 
you."  She  spoke  as  if  they  were  still  quite  alone,  but 
Aghassy  shot  an  uneasy  glance  at  the  quietly  working 
butler. 

"  She  has  refused  you  twice,  you  know,"  the  old 
lady  went  on,  smiling  as  her  eyes  followed  his,  "  and  I 
am  pretty  sure — -as  well  as  very  hopeful — that  she  will 
again!  There  are  all  sorts  of  things  against  you. 
Against,"  she  added  hastily,  "  your  chance,  I  mean." 

"Yes?" 

"  Yes.  For  one  thing,  her  son  doesn't  like  you. 
For  another,  her  daughter  doesn't  like  you " 

"  And  for  another  thing,"  he  put  in  with  a  short 
laugh,  "  you  do  not  like  me.  You  have  never  con- 
cealed your  feelings." 


YELLOWLEAF  11 

"  I  have  never  tried  to." 

Bruno,  having  drawn  aside  the  embroidery  frame, 
pushed  the  ready  tea-table  in  front  of  her,  and  adjusted 
her  chair  to  its  uses. 

Still  speaking  French,  she  inquired  politely  as  to 
her  guest's  tastes  in  the  matter  of  tea,  and,  when  she 
had  poured  out  a  cup  for  herself,  neither  of  them  spoke 
for  what  seemed  a  long  time.  Then  Aghassy,  setting 
down  his  cup,  broke  the  silence. 

"  There  is,  on  my  side,"  he  began  slowly,  "  one 
factor  that  you  have  overlooked." 

"  No,  I  have  not.    You  mean  the  piano." 

He  bowed,  the  firelight  glancing  over  his  well-bril- 
liantined,  smoothly  brushed  black  hair. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  almost  in  a  whisper,  and  his  low, 
almost  husky  voice  was  very  sweet,  "  the  piano  is  my 
friend." 

The  day  had  come  to  an  end  now.  The  windows, 
still  uncovered,  hardly  showed  against  the  darkness  of 
the  far-off  parts  of  the  room.  The  wind  was  rising, 
and  little  gusts  of  rain  were  blowing  against  the  glass- 
Lady  Mary  watched  the  fire  for  a  moment,  as  it 
answered  to  the  voice  of  the  storm  and  threw  itself 
about  in  a  nervous,  spasmodic  way. 

"  My  daughter  will  soon  be  coming  in,"  she  said  at 
length,  "  and  she  will  see  you  in  her  morning-room  and 
tell  you  her  decision.  If  by  any  chance  she  surprises 
and  distresses  me  by  accepting  you,  you  must  bear  in 
mind  this  one  thing;  she's  a  gentle,  delicate,  impres- 
sionable woman,  and  when  the  hour  comes  when  you 
wish  to  bully  her,  you  will  find  it  easy  to  do  so;  but 


12  YELLOWLEAF 

you  will  not  find  it  easy  to  bully  me,  and,  until  I  die, 
I  shall  stay  with  her." 

She  had  been  watching  his  face  closely  as  she  spoke, 
and  it  seemed  to  her  that  it  was  more  like  that  of  a 
lynx  than  ever,  in  the  immobility  and  lack  of  expres- 
sion that  he  was  forcing  it  to. 

It  was  a  broad  face,  curiously  .flattened,  almost 
Kalmuck,  seen  from  the  front.  The  eyes,  which  had 
a  decided  upward  slant,  were  very  long  and  narrow, 
and  of  a  remarkably  light,  almost  jade  green  in  colour; 
the  lashes  were  short  and  thick,  and  the  whole  eye-ball 
had  a  singular  look  as  though  they  were  less  the  eyes 
of  a  human  being  than  highly  polished  bits  of  precious 
marble.  They  were  remarkable  eyes,  and  many  people 
thought  them  beautiful,  but  Lady  Mary  was  right  in 
considering  them  inhuman-looking.  Above  the  broad, 
smooth,  dark  eyebrows  the  beautifully  modelled  fore- 
head looked  incongruous,  for  it  was  the  forehead  of 
an  idealist  and  poet. 

Now,  as  she  watched  him,  he  turned  suddenly  at 
the  sound  of  some  slight  noise  round  the  corner  of  the 
room,  and  his  curiously  shaped  head,  showing  against 
the  light,  struck  her  that  he  was  indeed  wonderfully 
feline;  but,  when  he  turned,  the  noise  having  grown 
louder,  and  unmistakably  made  itself  known  to  be  that 
of  people  arriving  in  the  front  hall,  he  was  smiling,  and 
even  his  inexorable  old  judge  in  the  wheel-chair  could 
not  see  that  strange,  wistful,  almost  child-like  smile 
without  being  vaguely,  unwillingly  touched  by  it. 

Neither  of  them  spoke  until  the  footsteps  of  an 
invisibly  approaching  newcomer  had  come  up  the  whole 


YELLOWLEAF  13 

length  of  the  room  and  turned  the  corner.  Then  he 
rose,  dropping  his  body  and  arms  forward  in  his  odd, 
characteristic  bow. 

II 

Lily  Dampierre  stood  in  front  of  a  great  mass  of 
white  lilac  heaped  in  a  Chinese  bowl  on  a  black-wood 
stand. 

She  wore  a  dark  coat  and  skirt  and  a  close-fitting 
hat  of  silk  beaver,  like  a  man's.  Her  small,  pale  face 
looked  less  white  than  usual,  and  her  child-like  lips, 
smooth  and  red,  were  parted  eagerly. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Aghassy,"  she  said,  "  I  am  so  glad  you 
are  back." 

She  was  very  small,  very  delicate-looking,  and  in 
her  large,  dark  blue  eyes  was  a  look  not  often  seen  after 
childhood  is  over.  She  looked  what  she  was — a  simple, 
unintellectual,  sincere,  grown-up  child — and  her  pleas- 
ure in  seeing  him  was  so  obvious  that,  do  what  he 
would,  the  man  could  not  keep  triumph  out  of  his  face. 

Lady  Mary  watched  them  as  they  talked.  Lily  had 
taken  the  children  to  Rumpelmayer's  for  tea,  and 
Jimmy  had  eaten  seven  scones,  and  Picotee  had  upset 
the  cream-jug — "  Only,"  Mrs.  Dampierre  added 
vaguely,  "  it  was  only  milk,  so  it  didn't  much 
matter,"— 

"  And  how  was  Paris  ?  "  she  added  eagerly,  taking 
off  her  jacket — for  the  room  was  warm — and  arrang- 
ing the  crushed  folds  of  her  filmy  batiste  blouse  with 
her  little  unberinged  hands. 

Aghassy  explained  briefly  and  with  a  certain  dignity 


I4  YELLOWLEAF 

that  his  concert  had  been  a  success,  that  he  was  giving 
three  in  London  almost  at  once,  and  that  he  had  dis- 
covered a  new  Polish  composer  whose  music,  written 
on  a  new  scale  and  breaking  all  the  known  rules  of 
composition,  was  sure  to  rouse  tremendous  interest  in 
London. 

When  they  got  to  this  point  they  had  been  talking 
for  about  ten  minutes,  and  he  rose. 

"  I  will  play  to  you,"  he  said.  She  clasped  her 
hands  and  flushed  with  pleasure,  and,  without  a  word, 
led  the  way  round  the  corner  to  the  far  end  of  the 
room  where  the  piano  stood  all  alone,  like  some  un- 
gainly god,  on  a  platform. 

Lady  Mary  heard  the  sound  of  the  piano  being 
opened  and  the  chair  being  moved,  and  then,  to  her 
surprise,  her  daughter-in-law  came  pattering  back  to 
her  and  sat  down  in  the  arm-chair  vacated  by  the 
pianist 

"  He  told  me  to  sit  here,"  the  young  woman  de- 
clared, and  then  for  a  long  time  no  one  spoke,  and 
music  filled  the  room — and,  it  was  plain,  the  world,  for 
the  younger  of  the  two  listeners. 

Lady  Mary  knew  that  it  was  not  mere  music  she 
was  listening  to.  It  was  a  wooing,  and,  much  as  she 
disliked  the  man,  she  could  not  but  admit  that  it  was  a 
brave  and  potent  wooing. 

Remembering,  as  she  listened,  his  great,  square- 
tipped  fingers  and  his  heavy  wrists,  she  could  hardly 
believe  that  it  was  he  who  was  playing,  so  delicate, 
so  tender  was  his  touch. 


YELLOWLEAF  15 

in 

It  struck  her  that  her  daughter-in-law's  sensitive 
face  was  like  a  pool  of  water,  helplessly  open  to  the 
reflection  of  anything  that  passed  over  it.  The  last 
few  years,  since  the  sudden  blotting  out  of  the  rose- 
and-gold  splendour  of  her  short  married  life,  had  been 
grey  and  quiet  years,  a  little  sad  perhaps,  but  full  of 
peace,  and  her  face  had  faithfully,  unconsciously  re- 
flected them.  Eight  months  ago,  this  man  Aghassy 
had  come,  and  his  shadow — an  oddly  sinister  shadow, 
it  seemed  to  the  old  woman — had  ruffled  the  quiet 
of  the  little  pool,  which,  however,  had  settled  down 
again  after  his  departure  for  the  continent  eight  weeks 
before.  And  now  here  he  was  back,  weaving  his  spell 
at  the  piano,  and  the  old  woman's  heart  grew  heavy, 
so  heavy  that  she  pressed  her  hand  against  it  as  she 
watched  the  effect  of  the  music  on  the  innocent  little 
soul  so  dear  to  her. 

Lily  Dampierre  was  no  musician  herself.  Her 
playing  had  never  passed  the  schoolgirl  stage,  her 
small  hands  had  no  force,  and  her  fingers  dashed  about 
with  cheerful  inaccuracy  when  she  attempted  to  play; 
but  she  was  that  rare  thing,  particularly  amongst 
women,  a  sincere,  passionate  lover  of  music.  And  it 
seemed  to  the  old  lady  now,  at  this  crisis,  that  it  was 
a  fatality  that,  unlike  most  women,  she  loved  better 
the  cool,  logical  voice  of  a  piano  than  the  emotional, 
senses-swaying  one  of  the  violin. 

Lady  Mary  herself  had  once  fallen  deeply  in  love 
with  Sarasate  and  his  fiddle,  but  she  never  would  have 


16  YELLOWLEAF 

envisaged  him  as  a  mere  man  apart  from  the  exquisitely 
shaped  little  brown  soul  of  him,  as  his  violin  seemed; 
and  she  could  not  understand  that  anyone  could  look 
on  a  piano  as  the  soul  of  any  man,  however  marvel- 
lously the  man  might  play ;  and  now  here  sat  her  little 
Lily,  her  delicate  face  flushed,  her  eyes,  which,  while 
they  were  not  remarkable  in  shape,  were  unusual  be- 
cause they  were  neither  grey  nor  light  blue,  but  really 
almost  violet  in  colour,  fixed  on  the  fire,  seeing  neither 
that  nor  anything  else  in  her  ecstasy  of  listening. 

Thoughts  of  Trilby  and  Svengali  passed  through 
the  old  woman's  mind,  and  she  laughed  at  her  own 
paucity  of  comparison,  for  she  knew  that  her  daughter- 
in-law  was  not  of  the  sort  to  be  hypnotized.  If  Lily 
married  the  man  it  would  be  not  because  he  had 
acquired  any  uncanny  hold  over  her,  but  because  she 
had  in  her  own  quiet,  dignified,  reticent  little  way 
made  up  her  mind  that  for  some  reason  or  another  she 
ought  to  do  it. 

The  music  by  now  had  quieted  down ;  it  no  longer 
reminded  the  old  watcher  of  forked  lightning  among 
August  mountain-peaks;  it  was  as  if  the  man  were 
laying  a  broad,  easy  road  for  the  feet  of  the  little 
woman  he  wanted  to  come  to  him  by;  calm,  reason- 
able, everyday,  domestic  music  it  was,  and  its  effect 
was  seen  in  Mrs.  Dampierre's  face,  to  which  a  quiet 
little  smile  came  as  she  turned  her  head  towards  her 
mother-in-law. 

IV 

Lady  Mary  was  full  of  wisdom,  but  she  could  not 
forbear  from  asking  a  question,  and,  being  very  direct, 
she  put  it  into  few  words : 


YELLOWLEAF  17 

"  What  are  you  going  to  say  to  him?  " 

Lily's  frankness  was  that  of  a  child,  instinctive, 
unconsidered,  without  alternative ;  Lady  Mary's  was  a 
composite  quality,  for,  although  she  had  always  been 
truthful,  she  had  not  passed  through  that  most  difficult 
period — early  middle-age — without  occasionally  suc- 
cumbing to  the  facile  ways  of  compromise,  and  from 
this  temptation,  had  grown  to  be  stronger  every  day 
that  she  lived  her  conviction  that  sincerity  was  not 
only  the  better  way,  but  that  any  other  way  inevitably 
led  to  disaster. 

Human  beings  so  rarely  are  honest-minded  in  their 
dealings  with  each  other  that  it  was  a  peculiar  hazard 
that  had  drawn  these  two  women,  each  so  inexorably 
honest,  into  the  close  relationship  of  mother-in-law  and 
daughter-in-law,  and  Lady  Mary  had  often  wondered 
that  they  had  not  modified  each  other's  particular  form 
of  sincerity.  The  fact  that  they  had  not,  she  knew, 
spoke  volumes  for  both  their  characters,  and  she  was, 
perhaps,  the  only  person  in  the  world  who  realized  that 
Mrs.  James  Dampierre's  vague,  amiable  gentleness  was 
the  expression,  not  of  weakness  nor  of  lack  of  char- 
acter, but  of  some  considerable  strength;  and  now,  as 
the  curious,  tranquil  luring  of  the  music  went  on,  the 
old  lady  waited  for  the  answer  to  her  question. 

Lily  Dampierre  smiled  at  her  mother-in-law — her 
little  loving,  rather  insipid  smile — and  stroked  her 
smooth,  pale  brown  hair  back  from  her  temples  with 
the  palms  of  her  hands  in  a  way  that  was  hers. 

"  I  missed  him,  you  know,"  she  said. 

"  I  didn't  know.    You  never  told  me."    And  then 


1 8  YELLOWLEAF 

suddenly  the  old  woman  pressed  her  hand  once  more 
to  her  heart,  more  sharply  this  time,  as  if  she  felt  an 
actual  pain,  for  her  daughter-in-law  had  flushed. 

"  Why  should  I  tell  you  ?  "  the  younger  woman 
answered  with  a  kind  of  shy  bravery.  "  I  knew  he'd 
come  back." 

And  Lady  Mary  knew  the  game  was  up.  Moreover, 
in  her  silence  she  paid  an  unwilling  tribute  to  Aghassy's 
cleverness — shown  in  the  selection  of  the  music  he  had 
given  them.  A  less  clever  man,  she  knew,  would  have 
played  a  certain  excerpt  from  Wagner,  and  other 
music  of  an  order  quite  different  from  that  he  had 
chosen.  What  he  was  offering  Lily  was,  Lady  Mary 
understood,  quiet,  and  affection,  and  respect,  and  grati- 
tude, and  a  continually  eloquent  piano. 

When  finally  the  man  stopped  his  skilful  appeal, 
the  two  women  waited  for  him  to  come  back  to  the 
Corner;  but  he  did  not,  nor  did  he  move,  for  there  was 
no  sound  of  a  chair  being  pushed  across  bare  boards. 

Finally,  it  was  Lady  Mary  who,  with  an  irrepres- 
sible smile,  broke  the  silence. 

"  You  are  to  go  to  him  there/'  she  said.  "  He  will 
wait  till  you  do " 

Lily  rose,  and,  coming  to  the  wheel-chair,  bent  down 
and  kissed  the  old  woman  very  tenderly  on  her  fra- 
grant, withered  cheek. 

"  He  has  been  very  lonely,"  she  said.  "  It  will  be 
nice  for  him  to  have  Picotee  and  Jim " 


CHAPTER  II 


AT  this  time  young  Jimmy,  now  beginning  to  "be 
called  Jim,  was  thirteen,  and  Angela  Mary  Hilde- 
garde,  his  sister,  just  eleven.  A  few  mornings  after 
their  mother's  acceptance  of  Jacques  Aghassy  the  two 
children  crept  downstairs  at  seven,  bent  on  the  deed 
known  as  "  killing  the  worm  " — the  worm  being  hun- 
ger, and  killing  it  consisting  in  eating  bread  and  butter 
and  drinking  milk  in  the  dining-room. 

They  were  not  beautiful  children.  Jim  was  rather 
delicate-looking,  with  one  shoulder  higher  than  the 
other,  and  a  shock  of  ugly,  dead-leaf-coloured  hair. 
His  legs  were  abnormally  thin,  and  his  feet  dispropor- 
tionately large;  but  his  merry  little  brown  eyes  held 
not  only  the  twinkle  belonging  to  all  normal  eyes  of 
thirteen,  but  also  a  capacity  for  happiness,  affection, 
and  pain  not  usually  found  at  his  age. 

Picotee,  as  she  was  called  in  memory  of  her  first 
walk,  when,  at  the  age  of  eighteen  months,  she  marched 
boldly  away  from  her  mother's  side  into  a  garden  to 
fall  in  a  helpless  heap  in  a  fragrant,  bee-haunted  bed 
of  that  old-fashioned  flower,  was  a  little  taller  than 
her  brother,  and  weighed  nearly  a  stone  more  than  he ; 
a  broad,  straight,  sculpturally-built  child,  declared  by 
her  grandmother  to  look  as  if  she  had  come  off  a 
medieval  fountain.  Her  well-cut,  rather  large  face 
had  none  of  the  wistful  quality  of  her  brother's,  but 

19 


20  YELLOWLEAF 

in  some  aspects  she  was  startlingly  like  her  dead  father 
in  looks,  although  plain.  Little  Jim  it  was  who,  a 
dozen  times  a  day,  brought  pangs  to  his  mother's  and 
grandmother's  heart  by  some  unconscious  gesture  or 
trick  of  expression  that  almost  unbearably  recalled  the 
man  they  had  lost. 

On  this  dark  morning  they  came  creeping  down- 
stairs, each  one  carrying  a  brilliantly  polished  brass 
candlestick  with  a  lighted  candle  in  it.  They  had 
their  dressing-gowns  on  and  wore  slippers.  Picotee's 
heavy,  sleek  black  hair  hung  over  her  shoulders  in  two 
big  pigtails. 

"  Bruno  swore  he'd  leave  out  a  tin  of  sardines  for 
us,"  the  little  girl  whispered,  as  they  reached  the  floor 
and  ran  over  to  their  right,  to  the  dining-room,  which 
was  exactly  opposite  the  drawing-room. 

Jimmy  grinned.  "  Dear  old  Bruno !  he  won't  have 
forgotten.  I  say,  Picotee,  if  Charles  heard  us  he'd  go 
for  us." 

Picotee  switched  on  the  light  and  blew  out  her 
Candle  before  she  answered.  "  He  might  go  for  us, 
but  he'd  be  pretty  certain  to  eat  one  of  the  sardines," 
she  returned. 

The  room  they  had  come  into,  the  door  of  which 
they  had  carefuly  shut,  was  as  beautiful  as  the  draw- 
ing-room, in  a  different  way,  with  its  white  panellings 
adorned  with  coloured  clusters  of  fruit  carved  by  a 
pupil  of  Inigo  Jones;  and  the  passing  years  had  soft- 
ened the  white  to  the  indescribable  hue  of  old  ivory 
just  before  it  gets  to  be  too  yellow.  Lattice-windows 
were  set  close  together  round  two  sides  of  the  room, 


YELLOWLEAF  2I 

and  through  these  now  the  faintest  greyness  of  dawn 
was  visible.  On  the  big  dining-room  table,  which  was 
one  of  the  most  beautiful  things  in  the  house,  stood 
three  large  breakfast-trays  ready  to  carry  upstairs. 
Two  of  them  were  fitted  out  in  the  ordinary  way  with 
silver  and  porcelain,  very  beautiful  of  their  kind;  but 
on  the  third  tray  all  the  metal  was  beautifully  chiselled 
brass,  except  the  spoons,  which  were  gold. 

On  this  tray  the  porcelain  was  a  dead  white  and  of 
a  peculiarly  thick  and  glossy  texture.  This  was  Lady 
Mary's  tray,  one  of  her  oeculiarities  being  that  she 
hated  silver. 

When  James  had  lighted  the  fire,  and  the  logs  had 
caught  in  a  promising  way,  Picotee  set  on  the  vacant 
end  of  the  table  their  own  little  meal,  arranged  for 
them  secretly,  and  against  the  strictest  orders  from  her 
mother,  by  the  old  butler.  Milk  there  was  in  a  big 
yellow  jug,  and  a  pile  of  generously  cut  bread  and 
butter,  and,  in  a  little  glass  dish,  a  dozen  comfortable- 
looking  sardines. 

It  was  really  very  jolly  there,  early  in  the  morning 
while  everybody  else  slept.  The  two  children  felt  like 
pirates,  bandits,  Elizabethan  adventurers,  and  all  kinds 
of  other  delightful  things;  and  then  as  they  ate  they 
discussed,  as  children  are  never  expected  to  do  and 
almost  always  do,  the  affairs  of  their  elders. 

First  they  exchanged  opinions  on  the  subject  of 
their  second  cousin,  Charles  Thorn,  who  lived  in  the 
house  and  was  the  nephew  of  their  grandmother. 

"  Charles  is  not  very  pleased  about  this  fellow 
Aghassy,"  Jimmy  began.  "  And  neither  is  grand- 
mother." 


22  YELLOWLEAF 

Picotee  crunched  thoughtfully  at  her  sardine,  of 
which  she  would  have  scorned  not  to  eat  the  backbone 
and  what  she  called  the  "  innards." 

"  I  don't  think  you  ought  to  call  him  a  '  fellow,' ' 
she  answered.     "If  he's  going  to  marry  mother  he'll 
be  a  kind  of  father  to  us,  won't  he  ?  " 

"  Oh,  damn !  He  shan't  be  my  father.  Besides, 
grandmother  hates  him.  I'm  not  going  to  be  nice  to 
him." 

"  Don't  you  go  and  be  a  '  Jacky  Showbeast,' ' 
admonished  the  little  girl,     "  Besides,  I  don't  mind 
him  much,  only  I  wish  he  didn't  want  to  marry  us." 

At  this  Jimmy  burst  out  laughing — jeering,  cack- 
ling, rather  elfin  laughter  it  was. 

"  Marry  its!  You  don't  think  he  wants  to  marry 
you,  do  you  ?  " 

At  this  scorn  Picotee  stiffened,  and  took  on  what 
her  grandmother  called  her  "  monumental  "  look. 

"  We  belong  to  mother  and  mother  belongs  to  us, 
like  that  thing  Charles  was  telling  you  the  other  day — 
you  know,  '  If  A's  B  and  B's  C,  then  A's  C,'  isn't  it?  " 
Jimmy  melted  into  patronage,  called  her  "  a  good 
child,"  and  offered  to  reward  her  with  a  crown  of 
parsley  from  the  sardine-dish.  Then  he  added  more 
soberly :  "  You'll  find  that  it's  quite  different  from 
having  a  real  father,  all  the  same.  It's  all  very  well 
now,  of  course;  he's  nice  to  us;  but  he  won't  be  after  a 
while.  Besides,  how  will  you  like  having  a  lot  of  little 
brothers  and  sisters?  " 

Across  the  little  girl's  broad,  smooth  face  crept  a 
deep  purplish  flush.  Jim  saw  this  and  knew  that  it 


YELLOWLEAF  23 

meant  mischief,  for  his  sister  was  of  a  particularly 
jealous  nature. 

"  But  still,  perhaps  there  won't  be  any,"  he  mut- 
tered kindly,  "  sometimes  there  aren't.  Though  I  don't 
see  why  you'd  mind  so  much.  I  wouldn't.  Think  of 
those  jolly  pink  twins  we  saw  in  the  park  the  other 
day  with  cheeks  like  strawberry-creams." 

The  dining-room  clock  struck  half -past  seven, 
answered  a  second  later  by  the  beautiful  silver- voiced 
patriarch  in  the  drawing-room  reproving  its  sluggish- 
ness by  announcing  in  an  authoritative  voice  the  three- 
quarters.  Eight  o'clock  was  getting-up  time  for  the 
few  who  in  that  wisely  arranged  household  did  get  up 
for  breakfast. 

Picotee  poured  out  the  remainder  of  the  milk,  divid- 
ing it  with  strict  equity,  and  then  settled  down  to 
drink  hers  in  her  characteristic,  regular  way. 

A  change  had  come  over  Jim's  face;  he  suddenly 
looked  very  tired,  faint  shadows  showing  under  his 
small  eyes,  and  he  sat  staring  before  him,  his  hand 
resting  on  the  table  near  his  disregarded  glass  of 
milk.  He  was  wool-gathering.  Through  his  mind 
were  running  two  shuttles:  one  of  unbroken,  childish 
ignorance  and  trust  in  the  grown-up  Powers-that-be, 
the  other  one  of  dawning  doubt  and  independent  judg- 
ment. In  his  loving  heart  he  knew  that  his  mother 
was  always  right,  so  it  must  be  right  that  she  should 
marry  Jacques  Aghassy;  but  on  the  other  hand,  he 
was  beginning  to  know  that  everybody  sometimes  made 
a  mistake,  so  was  it  not  possible  that  his  mother,  his 
dear  little  "  All  Mine " — his  secret  name  for  her — 


24  YELLOWLEAF 

could  this  time  fail  in  judgment?  And,  in  the  con- 
fusion of  his  mental  fabric,  still  another  shuttle  darted 
unceasingly :  his  own  instinctive,  masculine  distrust  of 
the  man  who  was  to  be  his  stepfather. 

ii 

If  the  ghost  of  any  Florentine  gentleman  of  about 
1460  had  come  into  the  Yellowleaf  dining-room  a  few 
minutes  later,  and  seen  the  big  man  in  the  blue  dress- 
ing-gown who  had  just  joined  the  children,  he  might 
have  believed  himself  to  be  face  to  face  with  John 
Medici,  son  of  Cosimo,  the  father  of  his  country. 

Charles  Thorn's  likeness  to  this  unfortunate 
Giovanni  was  amazing,  and  many  times  had  he  re- 
ceived from  friends  in  Florence  a  photograph  of  the 
bust  of  his  prototype  by  Mino  da  Fiesole  in  the  Bar- 
gello  Museum.  His  broad,  bony  jaw  with  a  dimple 
in  the  chin;  his  tragically  set,  kind  mouth,  straight, 
thin-lipped  and  tender ;  the  long,  melancholy  nose,  and 
too-far  apart,  narrow  eyes  under  prominent  but  nearly 
hairless  frontal  bones,  were  so  like  those  of  Giovanni 
that  no  one  who  knew  him  and  saw  the  bust  could  fail 
to  be  struck  by  it.  It  was  an  astonishing  resemblance. 

He  was  the  son  of  Lady  Mary's  only  sister,  and,  as 
her  husband,  Hubert  Thorn,  had  had  an  Italian, 
though  not  a  Florentine,  grandmother,  there  may  have 
been  some  very  reasonable  explanation  for  the  likeness, 
although  it  is  unusual  for  a  type  of  face  to  persist  in 
any  family  for  over  four  hundred  years.  The  Haps- 
burg  chin,  the  Bourbon  nose,  are  so  extraordinary,  so 
entirely  grotesque,  that  they  naturally  would  survive 


YELLOWLEAF  25 

the  passage  of  time;  but  this  face  of  Charles  Thorn, 
rough-hewn,  strong,  unusual  though  it  was,  ugly 
though  many  people  considered  it,  was  neither  gro- 
tesque nor  hideous.  Indeed,  as  he  came  into  the  dining- 
room  where  the  two  bandits  sat  over  the  remains  of 
their  lawless  meal,  the  smile  with  which  he  greeted 
them  was  almost  pathetically  sweet  and  kind. 

"  Got  you  again,  you  two  villains!  "  he  said  kissing 
Picotee  and  giving  the  boy  a  heavy  clap  on  the  shoulder. 
"  I'll  get  your  mother  to  give  Bruno  the  sack,  and  then 
he'll  starve  in  the  gutter  and  it'll  all  be  your  fault." 

Jim  smiled  absently,  for  his  invisible  shuttles  were 
still  busy,  his  milk  still  unfinished,  though  Picotee's 
glass  was  now  balanced  on  the  edge  of  her  nose  to 
help  her  pink  tongue  in  its  ambition  of  extricating 
from  it  its  very  ultimate  drops  of  nourishment. 

Thorn,  who  had  come  down  for  his  own  tray,  sat 
down  and  lighted  the  little  spirit-lamp  under  the  kettle. 
He  hated  tea,  and  was  a  whole-hearted  coffee  man,  and 
made  his  own  coffee  as  he  had  been  taught  in  the  East. 

"  What  are  you  mooning  about,  youngster  ?  "  he 
asked  Jim,  after  a  pause.  The  boy  did  not  answrer, 
but  his  sister  did — a  thing  that  happened  very  often. 

"  We  have  been  talking  about  Mr.  Aghassy  and 
mother,"  she  explained. 

"  Oh,  I  see.  Well,  you  are  going  to  be  nice  to  him, 
and  help  your  mother  to  be  happy,  I  hope,"  Charles 
Thorn  answered,  his  soft,  deep  voice  very  gentle.  Then 
Jimmy  looked  up. 

"  Charles,"  he  said  slowly,  as  if  they  were  exactly 
the  same  age,  "  do  you  like  him?  " 


26  YEJLLOWLEAF 

Thorn  was  a  truthful  man  as  a  rule,  perhaps  more 
out  of  fastidiousness  and  a  sense  of  beauty  than  from 
any  deep  morality,  but  he  naturally  lied  now. 

"  My  dear  old  man,"  he  answered  heartily,  "  of 
course  I  do.  He's  a  delightful  fellow,  and  one  of  the 
greatest  pianists  in  the  world." 

Jimmy  looked  up,  his  left  eyebrow  crumpled  higher 
than  the  other  in  the  funny  little  way  his  mother  loved. 

"  Come  along,  Pic,"  he  said.  "  Barbara  will  be 
coming  to  wake  us  up  in  a  minute.  We'd  better  get 
back." 

in 

So,  alone  in  the  beautifully  panelled  room,  where 
the  firelight  touched  here  and  there  a  cluster  of  carved 
grapes,  or  the  cheek  of  an  apple  glowing  with  colour ; 
where  the  old  ivory-coloured  panels  looked  inches  deep 
in  the  richness  of  their  surface;  where  the  drab,  sad, 
autumn  day  peered  on  him  through  the  latticed  win- 
dows, sat  Charles  Thorn  thinking  about  Lily  Dam- 
pierre's  engagement. 

IV 

On  the  morning  of  the  wedding  Bruno  arose  at  six 
and  went  down  the  hill  to  the  Church  of  St.  Amadeo. 
The  old  man  was  unhappy,  therefore  naturally,  sanely, 
he  went  to  church.  It  happened  to  be  a  dreadfully 
dark  morning,  and  the  small  church  was  nearly  as 
dark  as  it  must  have  been  at  midnight.,  Crossing 
himself  with  holy  water,  the  old  servant  knelt  for  a 
moment  before  the  statue  of  Our  Lady  of  Sorrows  and 
then  went  and  knelt  before  the  small  altar  to  the  left 


YELLOWLEAF  27 

of  the  high  altar,  above  which  was  hung  an  ugly, 
badly  drawn,  badly  painted,  nobly  conceived  picture 
of  the  Annunciation  of  Our  Lady.  And  this  is  what 
the  old  servant  prayed :  "  O  Most  merciful  God,  I  most 
humbly  thank  thee  for  all  thy  mercies  unto  me,  for 
thy  forbearance  and  long-suffering  with  me  notwith- 
standing my  many  and  grevious  sins.  (Dear  God,  I 
have  been  an  abominable  and  vile  old  man  in  hating, 
as  I  have  hated,  the  illustrious  gentleman  who  to-day 
is  to  marry  our  illustrious  and  most  excellent  lady. 
There  is  something,  O  dear  God  and  dearest  and  most 
understanding  Our  Lady,  about  the  shape  of  his  feet 
that  I  cannot  stand,  miserable  worm  that  I  am.)  But 
you,  O  Our  Dear  Lady  and  Blessed  St.  Joseph,  and 
above  all  my  dear,  intimate  dear  St.  Bruno,  you  know 
what  an  ignorant,  foolish  old  sinner  I  am,  so  forgive 
me  out  of  your  intimate  mercies;  and  now  most 
gracious  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  I  come  to  confess,  and  I 
pray  you  grant  me  perfect  contrition  for  my  sins  that 
I  may  attest  them  with  the  deepest  sorrow  of  my  heart 

"  Teach  me  to  deplore  my  sins — and  they  are  many 
and  bestial,  and  worthy  of  the  most  revolting  punish- 
ments— and  assist  me  by  Thy  Cross  to  declare  them  to 
Thy  Vicar,  the  Priest,  honestly  and  with  a  contrite 
heart;  and  so  through  the  most  gracious  Lady  Mary, 
Beloved  Mother  of  Jesus  Christ,  Gracious  Redeemer, 
obtain  for  me  full  remission  of  my  sins  and  save  my 
soul." 

And  then  this  old  servant,  in  his  honest  examina- 
tion of  his  conscience,  found  that  he  had  not  omitted 
morning  or  evening  prayer;  that  he  had  not  been 


28  YELLOWLEAF 

negligent  in  the  discharge  of  his  religious  duties;  that 
he  had  not  spoken  irreverently  of  good  or  holy  things; 
but  that  he  had  not  been  zealous  enough  for  God's 
honour,  for  justice,  mercy,  and  truth ;  that  he  had  not 
avoided  all  kinds  of  impurity  and  faithfully  conquered 
evil  thoughts,  because  being  an  old  man,  these  things 
had  passed  him  by.  He  found  afterwards  that,  though 
he  had  not  disobeyed  his  superiors,  nor  murmured 
against  their  authority,  nor  thought  of  them  con- 
temptuously— for  Our  Lord,  St.  Mary,  and  St.  Joseph 
knew  that  only  an  absurd  idiot  of  a  man  could  do 
anything  but  respect  old  Lady  Mary,  Mrs.  Jeem,  and 
1'onorevole  Carlo ! — he  had  been  forward  and  peevish 
at  times.  Moreover,  he  would  not  attempt  to  conceal 
from  the  kind  and  omniscient  Jesue,  Mary,  and  Joseph, 
and  St.  Bruno,  the  fact  that  he  had  been  over-strict  in 
reprimanding  those  under  his  care,  that  he  had  not 
borne  patiently  with  their  failings. 

Then  the  old  man,  his  poor  knees  aching  from  the 
contact  with  the  icy  stone  floor,  made  his  act  of  con- 
trition and,  after  a  few  moments  of  silent  and  mighty 
prayerfulness,  made  his  way  to  the  confessional.  Half 
an  hour  later  it  was  a  young  old  Bruno  who  left  the 
church  after  communion,  and  trotted  back  up  the  hill 
with  his  little  yellow  dog,  Polenta,  at  his  heels.  To 
all  outward  appearance  he  was  a  work-worn  old  man, 
but  he  felt  himself  to  be  young,  strong,  and  innocent. 
He  bore  in  his  breast  a  heart  as  pure  as  that  of  a 
child.  This  heart,  sweet  and  blooming,  he  took  with 
him  to  the  wedding  of  his  old  Excellency's  young 
daughter,  la  Signora  Lili,  to  Jacques  Aghassy,  the 
pianist. 


CHAPTER  III 


ABOUT  ten  days  after  the  wedding  a  dark  brown 
brougham  drawn  by  a  splendidly  matched  pair  of  bays 
drew  up  at  Yellowleaf,  and  an  extremely  fat  old  gentle- 
man emerged  from  it  with  slow  dexterity,  opened  the 
garden-door  with  a  latchkey,  and  waddled  with  a  cer- 
tain ungainly  dignity  up  the  flagged  path. 

This  was  Lord  Hainault,  Lady  Mary  Dampierre's 
only  brother.  As  Bruno  peeled  his  long  fur-lined  coat 
off  him,  the  two  old  men  chatted  together  in  a  friendly 
way,  and  Bruno  remarked  that  the  Signer  Lord  had 
put  on  weight. 

Lord  Hainault  nodded.  "  Yes,  I  have  gained  seven 
pounds  since  I  got  back  from  Greece.  They  cook 
everything  in  oil  there,  you  know,  and  the  wine  is 
very  sweet — delicious,  too,  though  it  tastes  of  resin. 
You  are  thinner,  my  friend,"  he  added,  examining  the 
old  servant  in  a  kindly  fashion.  "  I  wonder  if  the 
flesh  I  put  on  has  in  some  way  or  other  been  taken 
away  from  you  ?  " 

They  laughed,  and  Bruno  led  the  way  to  the  draw- 
ing-room. 

It  was  a  bright  day,  and  the  four  windows  at  this 
end  of  the  room,  that  faced  towards  the  road,  were 
letting  in  a  tide  of  pale  and  pleasant  light,  in  which  the 
little  hollows  and  ridges  of  the  ancient  oak  floor  looked 
to  be  filled  with  clear  water.  The  fire-place  opposite 

29 


30  YELLOWLEAF 

the  door  was  ablaze  with  big  logs,  and  there  were 
flowers  everywhere. 

Whenever  he  got  back  to  this  old  dower-house  of 
his  family,  Lord  Hainault  was  impressed  afresh  with 
the  fact  that  he  loved  its  drawing-room  as  he  loved 
no  other  room  in  the  world.  There  was  in  it  not  only 
the  beauty  of  its  queer,  unusual  shape  and  its  many 
treasures,  but  a  homely,  gracious  atmosphere  of  dignity 
and  cosiness  and  peace  that  made  a  strong  appeal  to 
the  wandering  old  man.  Opposite  the  fireplace,  wide- 
open  glass  doors  led  into  a  big  conservatory,  whence 
came  a  pleasant  fragrance  of  well  cared-for  garden 
things. 

As  the  two  old  men  made  their  way  to  the  left,  on 
their  way  to  Lady  Mary's  corner,  she  called  out  to 
them,  and  her  voice  was  as  fresh  as  that  of  a  girl. 

"Is  that  you,  Stephen?" 

Bruno  turned  and  went  back,  pausing  half-way  to 
the  door,  and  smiling  broadly  to  himself  at  the  sound  of 
the  hearty  kiss  the  old  brother  and  sister  gave  each  other. 

But  when  they  were  alone,  Lady  Mary  did  not  call 
her  brother  Stephen,  she  called  him  "  Dan,"  a  nick- 
name she  had  given  him  half  a  century  before  because 
of  his  size,  huge  even  then.  "  Daniel  Lambert "  she 
had  nicknamed  him,  when  he  was  twenty,  and  Dan  she 
still  called  him,  though  nobody  knew  why. 

"  And  how's  Greece  ?  "  she  began,  as  he  settled 
down  into  the  chair  opposite  her  and  lit  his  cigarette. 

Greece,  it  appeared,  had  been  less  perfect  than  usual. 
He  had  had  ceaseless  rains  in  the  Peloponnesus,  and 
his  rheumatism  had  been  bad ;  and  now  he  asked  in  his 


YELLOWLEAF  31 

turn :  "  Tell  me  about  yourselves  and  the  wedding." 

Lady  Mary  somehow,  in  the  joy  of  seeing  her 
brother  after  a  long  separation,  had  a  queer  air  of 
being  a  young  woman  wearing  the  mask  of  an  old 
one ;  but,  at  this  question,  her  youth  fled. 

"  Weddings  are  always  beautiful,"  she  answered. 
"  I  don't  know  that  this  one  was  any  worse  than  usual, 
but  I  don't  like  him,  Dan.  There  is  something  wrong." 

"Tell  me  about  it,"  persisted  the  old  man,  who 
was  that  most  delightful  of  companions,  a  listener 
eager  for  detailed  description. 

So  she  began,  speaking  sometimes  in  French  and 
sometimes  in  English,  for  their  mother  had  been  a 
Frenchwoman,  and  they  had  been  brought  up  partly 
on  a  little  old  estate  of  hers  in  Anjou. 

"  Lily  wore  grey,  of  course.  She  was  not  the  least 
excited  or  nervous.  She  might  have  been  going  to  the 
British  Museum  as  far  as  looks  went.  Bruno  took  me, 
and  I  was  excited,  and  I  did  look  very  smart.  Oh, 
Dan,"  she  broke  off,  waving  her  little  hands  expres- 
sively; "I  was  so  beautifully  dressed!  Picotee  was 
bridesmaid,  and  looked  very  pretty  in  a  periwinkle- 
coloured  frock  and  fox  furs.  As  to  Jimmy,  bless  him, 
he  was  a  dreadful  blot  on  the  beauty  of  the  scene.  His 
coat  didn't  fit  him,  and  his  hair  stuck  out  worse  than 
ever."  Her  face  changed,  and  she  spoke  with  strong 
vehemence.  "  He  feels  the  same  about  Aghassy  that 
I  do — I  mean,  that  he's  wrong." 

Lord  Hainault  grunted.  "  He's  a  magnificent 
pianist.  He  beats  anybody  I  ever  heard — yes,  any- 
body, at  that  Bach  concerto." 


32  YELLOWLEAF 

"  I  don't  mind  him  much,"  the  old  man  went  on 
thoughtfully — "  at  least,  he  looks  a  manly  chap  with 
those  great  shoulders." 

"His  shoulders  are  all  right,  but  his  legs  are  too 
short,  and,"  she  added  drily,  going  on  with  her  em- 
broidery, "  did  you  ever  notice  the  back  of  his  neck?  " 

Lord  Hainault  had  not  noticed  the  back  of  Jack 
Aghassy's  neck. 

"  Well,  it's  clumsily  broad  at  the  base,  and  goes 
straight  up  to  his  head  behind  the  ears  without  a  curve, 
and  there  is  no  hollow  in  the  middle,  and  the  hair 
grows  high  up  and  straight — the  neck  of  a  brute." 

"  Oh,  get  out !  "  laughed  the  old  man.  "  Whoever 
heard  of  an  animal  whose  hair  grew  high  up  on  its 
neck?  I'll  tell  you  how  I  met  him  first,  by  the  way, 
Mary :  through  Sylvester  Martin,  that  secretary  I  had." 

Lady  Mary  stuck  her  needle  into  the  canvas  and 
leaned  forward  in  her  chair.  "  Oh,  the  one  who  went 
out  to  South  Africa.  Did  you?  I  didn't  know  that! 
You  liked  him,  didn't  you,  Dan? — Martin,  I  mean." 

"  Yes.  He  was  a  capital  chap,  and  as  clever  as 
they're  made." 

"  You  treated  him  confidentially,  eh?  " 

Lord  Hainault  stared  at  her,  his  dark  eyes  looking 
puzzled. 

"  Of  course  I  did;  he  was  my  private  secretary  and 
a  gentleman.  Why  ?  " 

But  Lady  Mary,  instead  of  answering,  went  on 
telling  him  about  the  wedding,  at  which,  it  appears,  the 
church  had  been  bitterly  cold,  and,  brightened  only  by 
the  presence  of  three  or  four  guests,  about  as  cheerful- 


YELLOWLEAF  33 

looking  as  a  mausoleum.  Jim  sneezed  all  through  the 
ceremony,  and,  of  course,  had  no  pocket-handkerchief. 
Finally,  Picotee  lent  him  hers,  and  he  forgot  where  he 
was  and  blew  his  nose  so  loud  that  the  church  echoed. 

"  Well,  then  we  came  home  here  and  had  lunch — 
or  breakfast,  I  suppose  I  should  say — and  they  went 
away;  and  that's  all — except,"  she  added,  resuming  her 
work,  and  bending  over  the  intricate  medieval  pattern 
of  her  tapestry,  "  that  he  played  for  us  before  they 
left.  That,  you  know,  was  rather  odd,"  she  went  on 
briskly.  "  There  were  only  ten  of  us.  Maud  came, 
and  Arthur  Hesketh,  and  Bill — by  the  way,  Bill  did 
your  job  very  well,  and  gave  her  a  delightful  pair  of  old 
pearl  earrings — and  two  friends  of  his — Aghassy's — 
Sir  Abel  and  Lady  Booth,  rather  nice  people  they 
were.  She's  Italian,  and  used  to  be  a  singer — a  charm- 
ing little  woman  with  eyes  too  big  for  her  face.  Well, 
after  lunch,  he  brought  us  all  in  here  to  my  Corner. 
It  was  a  pouring  wet  day,  and  the  wind  was  tearing 
at  the  windows  like  blazes ;  and  when  he  had  made  us 
all  comfortable,  the  creature  marched  up  by  himself 
and  opened  the  piano  wide,  and  played.  It  was,"  old 
Lady  Mary  went  on,  "  glorious.  Of  course,  it's  that, 
that's  done  it — with  Lily,  I  mean.  She  wouldn't  have 
looked  at  him  but  for  his  music." 

'  That's  no  discredit,  my  dear.  There  always  is  in 
everybody  some  one  quality  without  which  the  other 
person  never  would  have  thought  of  them.  Dear  little 
Lily!  Do  you  think  she  really  cares  for  him,  Moll?  " 

Lady  Mary  nodded.  "  Yes,  I  think  she's  given  him, 
or  rather  that  he  has  taken,  everything  Jim  didn't 
carry  away  with  him." 


34  YELLOWLEAF 

There  was  a  pause,  during  which  the  old  man 
dreamily  watched  the  waving  of  the  boughs  through 
the  long  narrow  windows  set  in  over  the  mantel-piece. 

"  Where  did  they  go  ?  "  he  asked  at  last. 

"  To  Cornwall.  He  wanted  to  take  her  abroad,  but 
is  having  a  big  concert  just  after  Christmas  and  has 
to  get  back.  Did  I  tell  you  they  were  coming  this 
afternoon?  " 

"  No;  but  I  say,  Moll,  you  won't  be  able  to  stand 
the  fellow  practising  in  here.  Playing  is  one  thing, 
practising  is  quite  another." 

"  Oh,  he's  not  going  to  practise  here.  She  has  had 
the  billiard-room  changed  into  a  study  for  him,  and 
his  own  piano  is  in  it.  Go  and  take  a  look  at  it,  and 
tell  me  what  you  think." 

The  old  man  hoisted  himself  out  of  his  chair,  and 
rolled  cautiously  to  the  hall-door  at  that  end  of  the 
room.  Just  opposite  to  him  was  the  library,  and,  to 
his  right,  behind  the  library,  the  billiard-room.  It 
had  been  changed,  even  to  the  colours  of  its  walls, 
which  were  now  a  deep  cream,  unrelieved  by  pictures, 
except  for  a  large  and  very  beautiful  etching  of  the 
frowning  Beethoven.  The  piano  stood  nearly  in  the 
middle  and  a  new  electric  light  installation  over  and 
beside  it,  caught  the  old  man's  eye.  Besides  the  piano 
the  room  contained  a  large  writing-table,  looking  out 
into  the  glass  gallery  at  the  back,  and  also  lighted 
from  the  garden  window;  an  old  arm-chair  with  no 
cushion;  and  a  rather  shabby  old  green  divan. 

Lord  Hainault  liked  the  room,  and  somehow  it 
surprised  him  in  its  bare  austerity.  He  was  not  an 


YELLOWLEAF  35 

insular  man — insular,  after  all,  merely  means  ignorant 
—but  he  would  not  have  given  a  pianist  credit  for 
such  taste.  Pushing  open  the  French-windows,  he 
got  out  into  the  wide,  glass  gallery  that  ran  along  the 
back  of  the  house,  and  stood  looking  out  at  the  broad 
garden  in  the  midst  of  which,  looking  very  desolate 
and  chilly,  was  a  marble  figure  of  Poseidon,  sur- 
rounded by  some  of  his  more  fishy  progeny,  on  an  old 
fountain  brought  back  many  years  ago  from  Greece 
by  his  grandfather.  The  old  man  was  in  a  thoughtful 
mood;  he  had  been  very  fond  of  James  Dampierre, 
his  sister's  son,  and  he  had  loved  his  little  wife,  as, 
indeed,  nearly  everybody  loved  Lily.  Her  remarriage 
troubled  him  a  little,  not  because  her  new  husband  was 
a  musician  of  uncertain  nationality  and  an  unknown 
private  career,  but  because  Lady  Mary's  letters  had 
told  him,  as  much  unconsciously  as  consciously,  how 
much  that  shrewd  old  observer  disliked  the  new  mem- 
ber of  the  family. 

Lord  Hainault  walked  slowly  along  the  gallery 
nearly  to  the  end  of  it,  and  then  turned  to  his  right, 
crossed  his  sister's  bedroom,  and  went  back  to  her 
Corner. 

"Well,"  she  said,  "what  do  you  think  of  the 
room?  " 

"  I  like  it.    It's  the  room  of  a  worker." 

She  laughed  drily.  "  Oh,  you  wise  old  man !  What 
a  perceptive  creature  you  are !  How  could  a  man  play 
like  that  if  he  were  not  a  worker?  But  it's  not  that 
side  of  him  I  am  afraid  of." 


36  YELLOWLEAF 

ii 

An  hour  later  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jacques  Aghassy  were 
installed  in  their  home,  and  four  hours  later  dinner  was 
over  and  the  delightful  drawing-room  was  alive  with 
voices  and  laughter.  It  was  a  very  odd  thing,  but 
Jacques  Aghassy,  the  man  with  the  lynx-eyes,  seemed 
not  to  have  come  back;  this  man,  Jacques,  the  defer- 
ential and  devoted  husband  of  delicate  and  pretty  little 
Lily,  seemed,  even  to  his  inexorable  critic  in  the  wheel- 
chair, to  be  a  new  man. 

He  had  brought  laughter  and  an  odd  kind  of  inno- 
cent, domestic  cheerfulness  with  him. 

The  white  dining-room,  with  its  enchantingly  appe- 
tizing wreaths  and  clusters  of  richly  coloured  fruit,  a 
room  so  large  that  the  great  table  with  its  many  wax 
candles  looked  like  a  little  island  in  it,  rang  with 
laughter,  the  most  deeply  'mirthful  note  of  which  be- 
longed to  the  peak- faced  Jimmy,  whose  bright  little  eyes 
held,  as  he  looked  at  his  new  stepfather,  a  queer  puzzled 
admiration  that,  in  its  turn,  puzzled  Lady  Mary. 

Taken  all  in  all,  they  made  a  very  good-looking 
party.  Aghassy,  who  like  very  many  temperamental 
people  had  hours,  even  days,  of  a  plainness  almost 
amounting  to  ugliness,  was  at  his  best.  His  muscular- 
looking,  flexible  red  lips  were  full  of  pleasant  curves; 
his  narrow,  almost  pointed  teeth  constantly  showing 
in  an  odd,  belated  kind  of  boyish  laughter. 

Lily  sat  in  her  own  place  at  the  head  of  the  table. 
Opposite  her  near  the  door  sat  Lady  Mary,  with  Jimmy 
on  her  right  and  Picotee  on  her  left.  Aghassy,  by  his 
own  wish — indeed,  by  something  that  may  almost  be 


YELLOWLEAF  37 

called  his  own  orders — sat  on  his  wife's  right,  with 
his  new  stepdaughter  on  his  right,  Picotee  being  thus 
opposite  her  brother.  On  Lily's  left  sat  Lord  Hain- 
ault, who  had  dressed  at  the  house,  his  clothes  having 
been  brought  by  Pyke,  his  valet. 

Lord  Hainault  had  been  surprised,  visibly  sur- 
prised, by  the  table  arrangements,  but  in  two  words 
Lily  had  quieted  him. 

"  Mr.  Aghassy,"  she  said  simply,  then  adding  in  an 
access  of  very  pretty  shyness,  "  I  mean  Jacques,  wishes 
me  to  go  on  sitting  where  I  have  always  sat,  opposite 
Mamma." 

And  Aghassy  had  added  in  his  pleasant,  mellow 
voice,  in  the  English  that  Lady  Mary  stigmatized  as 
"  too  correct  for  an  Englishman  " ;  "I  prefer  to  sit  at 
Lili's  right,  Lord  Hainault.  It  is  honour  enough  for 
me  and,  moreover,  I  have  never  been  able  to  see  the 
happiness  of  sitting,  separated  by  the  length  of  a  whole 
table  from  the  woman  for  the  love  of  whom  one  has 
given  up  one's  liberty." 

At  this  beautiful  sentiment  Picotee  gave  a  loud 
cackle,  upon  which  Jimmy,  in  his  effort  to  quench  her 
untimely  mirth  by  a  blow  from  a  well-directed  leg, 
nearly  disappeared  under  the  table. 

Bruno,  sad-eyed  but  benevolent,  went  about  his 
duties,  the  duties  in  which  he  took  a  great  and  justifi- 
able pride,  with  on  his  face  an  interest  in  the  affairs  of 
the  family  he  served,  that  was  according  to  the  English 
criticism,  almost  criminally  incorrect  And  Lady 
Mary,  enveloped  in  priceless  lace  over  the  supple  velvet 
that  her  soul  loved,  said  little  and  saw  much. 


38  YELLOWLEAF 

It  was  plain  to  her  that  her  dear  Lily  was  happy, 
and  when,  at  the  end  of  dinner,  everyone  but  herself 
had,  according  to  their  usual  habit,  gone  back  to  the 
drawing-room  the  old  woman  looked  up  at  Bruno  who 
stood  waiting  to  propel  her  chair  back  to  her  Corner, 
and  smiled. 

"  Old  friend,"  she  said  in  Italian,  "  God  or  the  gods 
seem  to  have  decided  that  the  Signora  Lili  is  very 
happy.  Signer  Aghassy  is  in  the  nature  of  things  the 
creator  of  that  happiness.  We  must  forget  our  preju- 
dices and  begin  over." 

The  old  man,  spreading  his  short  brown  fingers  in 
an  understanding  gesture,  bowed. 

"  Excellenze,  si.  I  have  understood.  Also,"  he 
added  with  a  calmness  unachievable  in  the  matter  of 
religion  in  an  Anglo-Saxon,  "  I  have  prayed.  I  do 
pray,  and  I  will  pray." 

Answering  her  eyes,  he  placed  himself  benind  her, 
and  pushed  her  chair  smoothly  and  gently  down  the 
room  and  out  of  the  long  hall  to  the  left.  There  were 
dark,  old  family  portraits  hanging  on  the  walls  here, 
and  only  they  knew  the  confidential  talk  between  the 
old  servant  and  the  old  mistress. 

"  Thank  you,  Bruno,"  she  said,  "  I  am  glad  you 
pray  for  them.  Nobody  can  tell  what  will  happen  in 
the  future,  but  that  one  thing  in  some  way  or  other  is 
bound  always  to  be  good — prayer." 

Almost  at  the  end  of  the  lower  passage,  opposite  the 
door  of  the  library,  and  only  a  few  yards  away  from 
the  door  of  the  new  inmate's  music-room,  the  old  man 
turned  the  chair  and  wheeled  it  sharply  across  the 
bottom  to  the  L  of  the  drawing-room  into  the  Corner. 


YELLOWLEAF  39 

in 

On  this  the  music  began.  Jimmy,  who,  according 
to  his  wont,  sat  on  a  cushion  on  the  floor  near  his 
grandmother,  had  produced  a  sheet  of  paper  and  a 
stumpy  pencil  and  begun  to  draw  in  a  series  of  pulpy, 
bulbous  lines  the  curves  of  his  great-uncle,  soon  stopped 
working,  and  clutching  his  thin  knees,  on  which  he 
rested  his  chin,  he,  like  the  others  listened  to  the  music, 
the  epithalamium  of  a  modern  pianist. 

As  a  composer  Jacques  Aghassy  was  very  second- 
rate,  and  knew  it;  as  an  adapter  and  weaver  together 
of  other  men's  musical  ideas,  he  was  unparalleled,  and 
his  brain,  so  quick,  so  agile,  seemed  as  he  went  on  to 
forget  none  of  the  beautiful  musical  dreams  that  other 
men  had  dreamt  about  beauty,  and  love,  and  firesides, 
and  families.  Long  impeccable  excerpts  from  Schu- 
mann, Schubert,  Wagner,  various  Russians,  Verdi, 
Granados,  Sibelius,  seemed  to  drip  easily  out  of  his 
sleeves  to  the  tips  of  his  strong  brown  fingers.  He  was 
the  most  conscientiously  correct  of  interpreters;  never 
by  so  much  as  a  semi-tone  did  he  take  liberties  with 
the  masters  he  was  interpreting,  although  he  blended 
their  compositions  into  a  long,  solid  ribbon  of  smoothly 
unwinding  melody. 

Lady  Mary,  her  soft  dark  eyes  bent  in  turn  on  all 
the  different  faces  of  the  little  group  round  her  chair, 
noticed  with  an  impartial  interest  that  the  music  was 
having  an  evenly  distributed  effect.  Everyone,  from 
Lord  Hainault  to  young  Picotee,  was  indisputably  the 
happier  for  the  gentle  tide  of  sound  that  swept  so 
beautifully  through  the  old  house;  and,  being  a  just 


40  YELLOWLEAF 

woman,  she  admitted  this  and  told  herself  that  she 
was  glad. 

When  he  had  played  for  well  over  an  hour,  during 
which  hardly  a  word  had  been  spoken — it  was  under- 
stood that  he  could  not  and  would  not  tolerate  sug- 
gestions as  to  his  musical  programme — Aghassy  struck 
the  piano,  giving  it  a  great  fierce  bang,  which,  though 
dissonant,  was  held  so  cleverly  by  the  pedals  that  it 
melted  away  into  a  pulsing,  dreamful  silence.  Then, 
after  a  long  pause,  he  marched  quietly  down  the  room 
and  turned  the  corner. 

"  Lily,"  he  said.    "  It  is  late,  I  must  rest." 

A  few  minutes  later  he  and  his  wife  had  gone 
upstairs.  Lord  Hainault  rose  and  looked  at  his  sister, 
and  was  about  to  speak,  when  she  half-closed  her  old 
eyes  in  a  way  that  he  knew  meant  an  admonition  to 
silence.  He  was  not  staying  in  the  house,  being  the 
possessor  of  a  nondescript-looking  palace  in  Grosvenor 
Square,  where,  he  always  declared,  he  lived  in  two 
rooms,  and  which  was  known  to  the  family  as  his 
cave;  so  presently  he  took  his  leave,  escorted  to  the 
door  by  the  children,  who  helped  him  into  his  waiting 
brougham  with  youthful,  inhuman  jests  about  the  tight- 
ness of  his  fit  in  that  vehicle. 

When  the  horses  had  turned  the  corner,  Jim  and 
Picotee  went  back  into  the  house,  and  made  their  way 
down  the  long  passage  towards  the  far  drawing-room 
door,  which  passage  they  were  encouraged  to  use  rather 
than  the  long  side  of  the  drawing-room  to  which  it  lay 
parallel,  because  of  the  noisiness  of  their  tread.  It 
was  their  praiseworthy  desire  to  say  good-night  to 


,YELLOWLEAF  41 

their  grandmother,  but,  when  they  reached  her  Corner, 
they  found  that  the  old  Lady  Mary  had  gone  into  her 
room,  into  which  bower  they  were  never  encouraged  to 
go.  So  they  stood  for  a  moment  by  the  dying  fire  and 
exchanged  immature  convictions  as  to  the  success  of 
their  mother's  marriage. 

"  I  like  him,"  Picotee  declared,  biting  the  end  of  her 
pigtail  in  the  way  stigmatized  by  her  brother  as  revolt- 
ing and  cannibalistic.  "  He  has  dimples,  and  dear, 
funny  flat  green  eyes,  and  he  says  I  needn't  try  to  learn 
the  piano." 

Jimmy  gathered  much  wool  before  he  answered, 
and,  when  he  did  speak,  his  words  came  slowly  and 
lazily. 

"  I  wish  I  loved  music  more,"  he  said ;  "  I  mean,  I 
wish  I  could  get  inside  it" 

"  But  you  do  like  it,  don't  you?  You  listened  all 
right." 

The  boy  nodded.  "  I  like  it  the  way  I  like  a  rain- 
storm in  the  spring,  from  the  inside  with  the  window 
shut;  what  I'd  like  is  to  be  a  sparrow  out  in  it,  you 
know,  with  its  feathers  all  separated  so  that  it  could 
get  thoroughly  wet " — on  which,  this  philosopher  and 
his  sister  went  slowly  up  the  broad,  hard  oaken  stairs 
past  their  mother's  room,  which  now  so  mysteriously 
had  become  Jacques  Aghassy's  room  as  well — the  Mr. 
Aghassy  who  up  to  now  had  been  only  an  occasional 
caller — and,  after  a  short,  cursory  parting  in  the  back- 
room at  the  top  of  the  second  flight  of  stairs,  which 
was  supposed  to  be  their  schoolroom,  they  parted  for 
the  night. 


42  YELLOWLEAF 

Their  rooms  were  next  each  other  and,  as  Jim 
opened  his  door,  he  turned,  his  irregular  profile  drawn 
closely  against  the  light  on  it  just  turned  on  inside. 

"  I  say,  Picotee,"  he  called  softly,  "  it  will  be  nice 
to  have  Charles  back  on  Tuesday,  won't  it  ?  " 

He  couldn't  see  Picotee,  but  he  heard  a  voice,  which 
organ  indeed  possessed  thus  far  uncontrolled  carrying 
qualities  of  an  extraordinary  kind. 

"  It  will."  After  a  pause  the  voice  added,  "  Father 
Ambrose  always  does  choose  the  most  inconvenient 
times  to  die  in." 


CHAPTER  IV 


ONE  day  early  in  February,  Charles  Thorn  and 
Jimmy  sat  in  the  schoolroom  before  an  enormous  fire 
having  a  history  lesson.  The  boy  had  never  been  sent 
to  school  because  of  some  weakness  of  the  heart,  which, 
in  view  of  an  hereditary  malady  of  that  romantic  organ, 
it  was  considered  advisable  to  safeguard. 

Thorn,  who  was  a  scholar  and  a  born  solitary,  had 
undertaken  to  teach  the  boy,  who  was  a  great  favourite 
of  his,  and  the  lessons,  although  what  may  be  called 
their  shape  was  odd  and  unconventional,  were  fruitful 
in  the  knowledge  that  young  Jimmy's  rough-locked 
head  seemed  to  contain. 

Before  the  two,  on  the  large,  shabby  old  table,  were 
spread  several  maps,  one  of  Greece  as  a  whole,  one  of 
Athens  and  a  very  detailed  one  of  the  Acropolis;  while 
all  round  them  on  chairs,  on  the  table,  on  the  floor,  lay 
open  books,  all  pertaining  in  some  way  or  other  to  that 
most  enchanting  of  subjects,  the  "  Golden  Age  "  and 
its  Pericles. 

Jimmy,  with  a  fountain-pen — one  loaded  with  red 
ink,  the  other  with  black — in  either  hand,  was  drawing 
a  map  and  uttering  words  of  wisdom  as  to  Pallas, 
Athene's  olive-tree,  and  the  Pelasgian  War,  and  the 
rather  doubtful  character  of  Apollo,  of  that  delightful 
caster  of  golden  arrows.  Charles  Thorn  was  lounging 

43 


44  YELLOWLEAF 

in  a  window,  cuddling  in  his  hand  a  disreputable,  rat- 
tailed  pipe,  out  of  which  he  drew  amazingly  large 
clouds  of  strong  tobacco  smoke.  They  were  both  of 
them  very  fond  of  this  delightful  period  of  history, 
and  on  an  easel  near  by  stood  a  very  good  charcoal 
drawing  of  the  Theseus  from  the  east  pediment  of  the 
Parthenon.  This  work  was  Jimmy's  and  showed,  for 
all  its  crudity,  an  unusual  knowledge  of  muscle  and 
structure.  On  the  mantlepiece  was  a  half -eaten  apple, 
a  glass  of  malted  milk,  and  an  open  Bible. 

It  was  a  mild  day,  and  through  the  open  window 
came  a  queer,  cold  smell  of  waking-up  earth,  and  the 
sound  of  a  bird  singing.  Young  Jim  worked  for  a 
while  in  silence,  while  his  untutor-like  tutor  looked 
out  of  the  window. 

"  I  say,"  he  said,  "  I  believe  I  see  a  crocus,  a  yellow 
fellow,  sou'-sou'-west  of  the  fountain." 

Jimmy  dropped  his  pencil  and  joined  him  at  the 
window.  It  was  a  crocus,  bearing  all  the  marvellous 
novelty  of  that  annual  period.  It's  odd,  but  one  is 
always  surprised  by  the  first  crocus,  or  the  first  violet, 
or  the  first  cuckoo.  The  mere  fact  of  the  existence  of 
crocuses  and  violets  and  cuckoos  should  lead  every 
reasonable  being  to  a  calm  recognition  of  the  fact  that 
there  must  come  a  first  of  every  group,  yet  most  human 
beings  push  a  little  cry  of  incredulity  and  rapture  at 
their  first  seen  example,  so  it  will  not  very  much  sur- 
prise anybody  that,  on  that  February  morning,  Charles 
Thorn  and  Jimmy  Dampierre  should  without  compunc- 
tion have  planted  their  Theseus,  Pericles,  and  the  whole 
of  Athens,  to  say  nothing  of  those  splendid  fellows, 


YELLOWLEAF  45 

their  neighbours,  the  Spartans,  rush  downstairs  and 
out  through  the  glass  gallery  and  into  the  wet,  un- 
shorn grass,  to  jibber  with  delight  over  a  small,  anaemic, 
most  weakly  specimen  of  its  family — a  yellow  crocus 
by  the  old  fountain. 

Thorn  was  not  particularly  fond  of  flowers,  and 
Jimmy  loved  what  he  called  smelly  ones,  even  includ- 
ing the  tuberose ;  but  something  in  the  air,  that  morn- 
brought  them  both  to  their  knees  with  a  beautiful  dis- 
regard for  clothes.  And  it  was  thus  that  Aghassy 
found  them,  when  he  came  prowling  soft-footed  out  of 
the  music-room,  his  heavy  shoulders  bent,  his  head 
thrust  forward  with  a  bull-like  air  of  clumsy  exaspera- 
tion, like  that  of  some  huge  creature  stung  by  a  small 
pointed  insect. 

Like  all  musicians,  he  was  a  nervous  creature ;  but, 
unlike  most  artists  of  all  categories,  he  kept  his  moods 
and  miseries  decently  to  himself.  But  this  morning  he, 
too,  was  assailed  by  the  demon  of  spring ;  its  raw  sad- 
ness struck  him,  and  some  momentarily  insurmountable 
difficulty  in  the  new  Polish  concerto  he  was  studying 
had  beaten  him.  He  stood  there  at  the  edge  of  the 
glass  gallery,  in  one  of  the  open  spaces  made  by  the 
rolling  back  of  a  partition,  the  virginal  young  sun  not 
pouring  down  on  him,  for  the  English  sun  never  pours, 
but  flowing,  economically  diluted,  over  his  burly,  coal- 
heaver-like  figure.  Looking  down  at  the  two  idiots 
and  the  crocus  he  said :  "  Is  that  the  morning  star  you 
have  found  ?  " 

Thorn  didn't  move.  His  long  back,  under  its  gun- 
metal  flannel  jacket,  stiffened  slightly.  Jimmy 


46  YELLOWLEAF 

whirled  round  on  his  hands  and  sat  down,  looking  up 
at  his  stepfather  with  a  wide  grin.  "  Crocus,"  he  said, 
wasting  no  words. 

Aghassy  made  a  little  noise  in  his  throat  which  he 
obviously  expected  to  be  taken  for  a  laugh. 

"  Wonderful  thing,  a  crocus!  I  should  think  a  boy 
of  your  age,  Jim,  could  find  something  more  interesting 
to  kneel  to." 

Then  Thorn  rose,  and  stood  with  his  hands  in  his 
trousers  pockets  looking  up  over  the  boy's  head  at  the 
other  man. 

"  You  forget,  perhaps,"  he  said  very  gently,  "  that 
the  crocus  is  almost  an  English  emblem.  We  are  very 
fond  of  it,  we  English." 

Then  he  turned  and  walked  slowly  straight  down 
the  broad,  gravelly  path  towards  the  end  of  the  garden. 

Jimmy,  who  was  more  observant  and  less  of  a 
talker  than  most  boys  of  his  age,  continued  to  stare  up 
at  his  stepfather,  and  he  saw  the  darkness  rather  than 
the  colour,  for  Aghassy  had  very  little  colour  in  that 
strange  face  of  his,  drain  away,  leaving  all  but  the 
lips  of  a  queer,  almost  grey  hue.  Aghassy  did  not 
answer;  Jimmy  wished  he  would.  Aghassy  did  not 
move;  Jimmy  wished  he  would.  Aghassy's  eyes  half- 
closed,  leaving  only  a  slit  of  light  between  the  lashes. 
A  bird  in  the  nobbly  old  apple-tree  burst  out  into  a 
little  joyful  song,  a  premature  bird — for,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  it  snowed  next  day — but  Jim  felt  grateful  to 
it,  and  wheeled  about  on  his  axis  and  watched  it  sing, 
glad  to  turn  away  from  the  queer  green  eyes  at  the  top 
of  the  steps, 


YELLOWLEAF  47 

The  bird  sang  on  and  on,  the  feathers  parting  over 
his  bursting  little  throat,  thus  breaking  the  outline  of 
his  body  against  the  sky;  the  crocus  laughed  in  the 
grass;  and,  over  his  left  shoulder,  the  boy  could  see 
the  tall,  slouching,  broad-shouldered  figure  of  his  tutor 
standing  at  the  extreme  end  of  the  garden,  lighting  a 
cigarette.  For  some  seconds  Jimmy  did  not  move,  but 
sat  there  watching  the  bird,  and  at  the  same  time  see- 
ing Charles  Thorn;  wishing,  with  an  intensity  that 
made  him  almost  ache,  that,  when  he  turned  round, 
Aghassy  would  no  longer  be  standing  there,  with  his 
hands  in  the  pockets  of  his  shabby  old  velvet  jacket. 

Aghassy  had  said  nothing.  Thorn  had  said  nothing. 
But  the  air  was  tense,  stiffened  with  their  hatred. 

ii 

It  so  happened  that  Lady  Mary  became  accessory 
after  the  fact  to  the  scene  of  the  crocus.  She  had  been 
very  unusually  out  of  the  house  that  morning,  for 
Bruno  had  taken  her  to  Bond  Street  to  have  her  photo- 
graph taken,  and  she  had  just  come  home  and  been 
propelled  majestically  along  the  long  hall  towards  her 
bedroom  when  Aghassy  came  back  from  the  glass  gal- 
lery, having  come  through  sheer  inadvertence  into  the 
hall  instead  of  into  the  music-room.  Bruno  and  Lady 
Mary,  by  way  of  celebrating  the  first  mild  day  of  the 
year,  had  called  at  Mr.  Solomon's  in  Piccadilly,  and 
expended  two  or  three  pounds  on  alien  flowers — crim- 
son and  purple  anemones;  a  huge  bunch  of  friesias, 
each  of  which  little  horn,  had  it  been  capable  of  fair 
music,  might  have  filled  the  world  with  lovely  melody ; 


48  YELLOWLEAF 

both  kinds  of  violets,  because  Lady  Mary  preferred  the 
dark  ones  while  Bruno  persisted  in  the  superior  charms 
of  the  paler  ones,  because  their  hearts  were  white;  and, 
dominating,  outsinging  the  lot  of  them  with  their  yel- 
low voices,  a  huge  clump  of  feathery  mimosa,  that 
to-morrow  would  be  dry  twigs  covered  with  ugly 
yellow  balls,  but  that  to-day,  in  their  expensive  youth, 
were  a  mass  of  fragrant,  feathery,  canary-coloured  fluff. 

Lady  Mary  and  Bruno  had  both  decorated  them- 
selves, Bruno's  button-hole  being  a  large,  austere-look- 
ing, but  sensuous-smelling  gardenia,  while  the  old 
lady's  handsome  furs  were  punctuated  in  the  middle  of 
her  chest  by  some  of  the  dark  violets  that  Bruno  did 
not  admire. 

Coming  down  the  broad  hall,  the  spring  sun  catch- 
ing on  the  ancient  gold  frames  of  the  family  portraits 
that  lined  it,  the  old  lady  and  the  old  servant  made  a 
fine  and  picturesque  appearance.  They  were  talking 
in  the  cheerful  way  prevailing  in  those  lucky  Latin 
countries,  where  servants  are  allowed  to  be  human 
beings,  and  where  such  gracious  permission  does  not 
turn  them  into  antagonists;  and,  just  as  they  reached 
the  drawing-room  door,  they  were  met  face  to  face  by 
Aghassy,  a  wrathful,  tenebrous  Aghassy,  his  hands 
thrust  into  his  jacket  pockets,  his  narrow,  glassy  eyes 
drawn  down,  all  the  pleasant  curves  gone  from  his  well- 
muscled  lips. 

At  the  sight  of  him  the  old  Italian  stopped  short, 
and  Lady  Alary  broke  off  in  something  she  was  saying 
in  Italian.  Aghassy  was  in  one  of  those  rages  that 
cannot  be  reasoned  about,  and  that  cannot  be  inwardly 


YELLOWLEAF  49 

controlled  because  they  have  no  possible  reason;  be- 
cause their  source  lies  deep  in  the  soul  of  the  unhappy 
wretch  they  control;  because  they  are  as  strong  as 
death,  or  love,  or  any  other  primal  and  terrible  thing. 

Valiant  old  Lady  Mary  gazed  at  him  aghast,  all  her 
former  feelings  surging  up  in  her  again.  With  a  little 
shiver  she  gathered  her  flowers  closer  to  her,  acknowl- 
edging to  herself,  as  if  she  had  uttered  the  words 
aloud,  that  she  was  afraid — afraid  of  this  strange  man, 
who  was  a  great  musician,  who  came  of  Heaven  knew 
what  race,  who  was  her  dear  little  daughter's  husband. 

He  was  not  a  very  tall  man,  five-feet-ten  at  the 
outside,  and  his  breadth  and  thickness  of  shoulder 
made  him  seem  shorter  than  he  was;  but  he  seemed  to 
tower  at  that  moment  over  the  very  old  woman  in  the 
wheel-chair,  that  old  woman  who  could  not  escape 
from  his  terrifying  presence  because  she  was  lame  and 
helpless,  and  that  old  man  who  could  not  escape  from 
his  terrifying  presence  because  he  was  a  servant  and  a 
friend  who  must  stick  to  his  post. 

The  whole  episode  lasted  not  more  than  two 
minutes,  and  during  it  nobody  spoke.  At  the  end  of 
the  time  Aghassy  turned  about  sharply  to  his  right, 
and,  going  into  his  music-room,  closed  the  door  with 
silky  softness. 

After  a  moment  Bruno,  passing  the  drawing-room 
door,  turned  to  his  right  and  wheeled  his  old  mistress 
into  her  bedroom,  where  her  maid  was  waiting  for  her. 

Lady  Mary  said  nothing.  Bruno  said  nothing. 
But  they  parted  with  a  new  bond  between  them — the 
bond  of  a  felt  fear. 


50  YELLOWLEAF 

in 

The  question  of  young  Jim's  education  was  one  of 
regular  recurrence  in  the  household.  He  had  been 
very  delicate  as  a  child  and,  until  he  was  ten,  there 
had  been  no  possibility  of  his  being  sent  to  school.  It 
was  at  that  age  he  was  to  have  gone  to  prepare  for 
Eton,  but  at  the  last  moment  he  was  laid  low  by  rheu- 
matic fever,  which  had  left  him  extremely  delicate.  A 
few  months  later  his  father  had  died  with  an  appalling 
suddenness  that  literally  nearly  killed  his  wife,  who 
clung  to  the  child  in  a  way  almost  terrible  in  its  inten- 
sity. It  was  at  this  time  that  Charles  Thorn  had  come 
forward,  and  offered  himself  as  tutor.  None  of  the 
family  could  bear  the  idea  of  a  strange  young  man 
living  in  the  house,  and,  rightly  or  wrongly,  Lily 
felt  that  the  inborn  tastes  and  peculiarities  of  every 
child  needed,  rather  than  the  systematic  crushing  to 
which  in  this  country  they  are  usually  subjected,  a 
kind  of  wise  guidance  and  sympathy. 

So  for  four  years  the  little  boy  had  been  under  the 
constant  care  of  Thorn,  who  found  in  himself  an  un- 
suspected fund  of  wise  patience  and  the  right,  tactful 
kind  of  ridicule  that  helps  every  developing  young 
mind.  Passionately  devoted  to  books  himself,  of  a 
very  comprehensive  culture — and  culture,  after  all, 
may  perhaps  be  described  as  well-digested  knowledge 
— a  lonely  man  with  few  friends  and  no  liking  for 
indiscriminate  companionship,  his  devotion  to  the  child 
had  grown  to  be  the  large  interest  in  his  life;  and  his 
devotion  Jimmy  returned  in  full.  They  were  the  best 
of  friends,  and  it  was  believed  after  repeated  tests  in 


YELLOWLEAF  51 

the  way  of  exams  for  different  standards  that,  when 
his  health  was  better,  the  boy  would  have  no  difficulty 
in  entering  Eton  with  credit. 

It  was  a  quiet  household,  that  of  Yellowleaf ,  behind 
its  high,  smoke-begrimed,  London-coloured  wall,  its 
members  being  peculiarly  sufficient  to  themselves  and 
to  each  other  for  companionship  and  amusement.  One 
of  the  chief  advantages  of  living  in  a  large  house  is 
that  one  is  never  subjected  to  the  nervous  irritation  of 
too  close  companionship  with  its  other  inhabitants, 
and  this  old  dower-house,  built  in  the  days  when 
SL  John's  Wood  was  a  King's  chase,  was  so  roomy, 
its  very  stairs  and  passages  so  ample,  that  sometimes 
half  a  day,  would  pass  without  the  solitude-loving 
Thorn  meeting  his  cousin's  widow,  any  of  the  different 
people,  chiefly  women,  who  came  in  for  the  purpose  of 
teaching  the  young  Picotee,  or  even  the  servants. 

Thorn  had  his  own  sitting-room  as  well  as  his  bed- 
room. He  had  lived  in  the  house  ever  since  he  was  a 
boy,  when  his  aunt,  Lady  Mary,  had  brought  him 
home  after  his  mother's  death;  and,  because  of  his 
dislike  for  casual  meetings  and  greetings,  it  had  always 
been  his  custom  to  make  use,  not  of  the  great  staircase 
opposite  the  house-door,  that  branched  off  in  antlers 
half-way  up  to  twist  round  the  gallery,  but  of  a  small, 
straight  little  flight  that  went  up  from  the  end  of  the 
hall  just  beyond  Lady  Mary's  bedroom  door,  and  thus 
nearly  opposite  the  room  that  had  formerly  been  the 
billiard-room  and  was  now  Aghassy's  study.  The  fact 
that  this  little  staircase  was  masked  by  a  door  almost 
invisible  under  the  panelling  was  the  cause,  a  few 


52  YELLOWLEAF 

months  after  Mrs.  Dampierre's  re-marriage,  of  very 
serious  trouble,  and  a  vital  change  in  the  household. 

Since  the  wedding  things  had  gone  smoothly, 
Aghassy  having  proved  unexpectedly  homely  and  com- 
fortable in  his  ways;  and,  what  pleased  Lady  Mary 
still  more,  turning  out  to  be  not  only  not  harsh,  but 
even  rather  lenient  with  the  children.  Picotee  frankly 
adored  him,  and  Lady  Mary  could  see  no  reason  to 
doubt  the  sincerity  of  his  affection  for  the  handsome, 
troublesome  child.  Jim,  though  at  first  he  had  not 
liked  his  mother's  husband,  had,  child-like,  been  won 
by  the  man's  flattering  weakness  for  him.  Aghassy 
took  some  pains  towards  fulfilling  the  boy's  wish  to 
understand  better  the  music  that  gave  him  such  pleas- 
ure, and  every  day,  at  some  time  or  other,  he  would 
call  Jim  into  his  bare,  workman-like  room  and  play 
to  him;  and  he  played  so  delightfully,  choosing  his 
selections  with  such  unerring  tact,  that  the  boy's  taste 
and  appreciation  steadily,  and  with  no  effort  on  his 
part,  improved. 

Clearly  Aghassy  had  his  points,  and  Lady  Mary, 
delighted  by  the  happiness  reflected  by  these  in  her 
little  daughter-in-law's  face,  was  most  eager  to  do  him 
justice.  On  his  part,  his  courtesy  and  consideration 
for  the  old  lady  were  unfailing,  and,  at  least  in  appear- 
ance, perfectly  spontaneous;  and  he  had  none  of  the 
faults  usually  expected  in  men  of  strong  artistic  tem- 
perament. He  seemed  to  have  no  rowdy  or  Bohemian 
friends,  and  kept  very  early  hours;  he  was  extremely 
moderate  in  matters  of  food  and  drink;  his  whole  life, 
apparently,  and  his  interests,  were  confined  to  his  wife's 


YELLOWLEAF  53 

house,  in  which,  moreover,  he  made  no  efforts  of  mas- 
tery, "  treating  himself,"  Lady  Mary  observed  rather 
drily  to  her  brother,  "  more  like  a  distinguished  guest 
than  anything  else." 

In  the  matter  of  money  Lady  Mary  had  nothing  to 
tell  her  brother,  for  the  matter  of  money  had  simply 
never  come  up  between  Mrs.  Aghassy  and  her  husband. 
They  knew  that  he  was  extremely  well  paid  for  his 
concerts,  and  he  seemed  always  to  be  able  to  do  or 
buy  anything  he  liked;  he  dressed  very  well;  and  he 
had  an  attractive  habit  of  bringing  home  from  his  daily 
walk  queer  little  gifts  for  different  members  of  the 
family,  little  gifts  that,  besides  being  unusual  and 
charming,  had  the  added  attraction  of  not  being  of 
any  pronounced  value  or  remarkable  for  their  cheap- 
ness. "  The  creature  seems  to  have  less  to  do  with  the 
market  values  of  things,"  the  old  lady  told  Lord  Hain- 
ault  one  day,  "  than  anyone  I  have  ever  seen.  If  my 
life  depended  on  it,  I  could  not  tell  whether  that  brace- 
let he  gave  Picotee  is  worth  ten  shillings  or  ten  pounds. 
He  is  full  of  queer  little  graces  that  keep  me  in  a  con- 
stant state  of  mental  apology  towards  him." 

The  one  person  in  the  house  who  was  perfectly  un- 
affected by  these  little  graces  and  qualities  of  the  new- 
comer was  Charles  Thorn.  His  dislike  for  the  man 
was  so  intense  that  whenever  he  could  he  dined  away 
from  home — at  lunch-time  Aghassy  only  very  rarely 
appeared,  having  a  weakness  for  a  tray  in  his  study  at 
that  hour.  Lady  Mary  noticed  this  silent  antagonism 
of  her  nephew  for  his  cousin's  widow's  husband,  and, 
after  one  or  two  efforts  to  draw  him  out  on  the  ques- 


54  YELLOWLEAF 

tion,  she  gave  it  up  in  despair.  For  Charles  Thorn 
would  not  talk  when  he  did  not  want  to,  and  about 
Aghassy  his  mouth  was  shut  as  close  as  an  oyster-shell. 

Lady  Mary  and  Bruno  had  never  forgotten  their 
meeting  in  the  hall  with  Aghassy  that  day  in  April, 
but  neither  of  them  ever  spoke  of  it  to  anybody.  It 
had  been  so  queer,  its  tenseness  amounting  to  horror, 
so  inexplicable,  that  the  very  thought  of  words  seemed 
to  fly  away  out  of  their  minds,  and  they  could  not 
remember  any  emotion — nothing  but  the  fact  that  they 
had  been  afraid. 

Jim,  too,  was  silent  about  the  scene  over  the  crocus. 
He  had  not  understood  what  Thorn  had  meant  by  his 
little  speech  about  the  crocus  being  the  English  emblem ; 
but  he  had  known  that  his  friend  had  made  the  speech 
with  a  definite,  bitter  intention  of  hurting  the  other 
man,  and  that  the  other  man's  hurt  had  been  swamped 
by  a  dark  rage  for  which  the  child  could  not  account  at 
all.  However,  children  forget  easily,  and  six  weeks 
after  the  scene  Jimmy  had  forgotten  all  about  it. 

IV 

Then  came  the  Battle  of  the  Staircase.  It  was  a 
rainy  day  in  June,  and  the  day  following  Aghassy's 
last  concert  of  the  season.  He  had  been  to  Paris  a 
fortnight  before,  and  given  a  concert  with  magnificent 
success  at  the  Chatelet;  but  yesterday's  concert  at  St. 
James's  Hall  had  been  in  many  ways  the  most  success- 
ful of  his  whole  career,  and  at  dinner  he  had  been,  in 
his  almost  boyish  delight  and  enthusiasm,  so  charm- 
ing that  even  Bruno's  dark  eyes  rested  on  him  with  a 


YELLOWLEAF  55 

softened  expression  as  he  waited.  Bruno,  moreover, 
had  been  to  the  concert,  having  been  the  gratified 
recipient  of  two  excellent  seats,  the  other  of  which 
he  had  filled  with  a  dark  brown  compatriot  whom  he 
believed  to  be  the  best  pastry-cook  in  London;  and 
Bruno  had  told  Lady  Mary  of  all  the  wonderful  things 
he  had  heard  the  people  say  as  he  and  his  friend  left 
the  hall.  The  enthusiasm  had  been  tremendous,  more 
than  one  of  the  evening  papers  declaring  that  even 
Paderewski  and  Busoni  had  never  played  certain  num- 
bers of  the  programme  as  Aghassy  did. 

Charles  Thorn  had  dined  at  home  at  Lily's  special 
request,  and  had  made  a  great  effort  to  play  up  to  the 
occasion  and  to  be  as  agreeable  as  he  could.  High 
on  the  crest  of  the  wave  of  his  happiness,  Aghassy  had 
met  him  half-way;  and  Lady  Mary,  as  she  dropped 
off  to  sleep,  told  herself  with  the  whole-heartedness  of 
a  strong,  generous  nature  that  she  had  been  an  old 
fool,  and  wronged  him.  Possibly  his  efforts  at  geniality 
the  night  before  had  been  too  much  for  Thorn,  or 
possibly  he  was  not  well,  for  it  is  undeniable  that  on 
that  morning  he  was  in  a  very  bad  temper. 

Jimmy,  who  loathed  noise  and  scenes,  watched  him 
narrowly  as  they  went  through  their  morning's  work, 
for  Charles's  temper  was  something  to  be  counted  with, 
and  its  rare  outbursts  were  dreaded  by  the  high-strung 
child.  However,  things  went  pretty  well,  for  Jimmy 
was  full  of  tact,  and  he  did  his  best  to  please  his 
master.  The  brooding  storm  in  Thorn's  mind  would 
probably  have  blown  over  as  such  storms  often  do,  but 
for  a  piece  of  bad  luck  in  connection  with  his  Greek 
translation.  It  was  nearly  lunch-time  and  Jimmy 


56  YELLOWLEAF 

very  hungry,  and,  carelessly,  pronounced  Zeus  as 
Zee-us.  He  knew  better,  Thorn  knew  he  knew  better, 
and  on  any  other  day  would  have  let  him  off  with  a 
kindly  jeer;  but  as  it  was,  the  storm  broke.  Thorn's 
temper,  thoroughly  roused,  let  him  down  with  a  bang, 
and  he  called  the  boy  a  fool  and  cursed  himself  for  his 
idiocy  in  trying  to  teach  such  an  idiotic  young  cub. 
Jimmy  answered  back,  his  irregular  little  face  white 
with  anger,  and  for  a  moment  they  faced  each  other, 
the  family  likeness,  hardly  to  be  noticed  in  ordinary 
times,  standing  out  strongly;  and  then  Jimmy  poured 
oil  on  the  flame.  "  You  don't  like  Jacques,"  he  said 
almost  in  an  undertone  but  very  distinctly,  "  I  know 
you  don't.  You  despise  him  because  he's  not  an  *  Hon- 
ourable '  like  you,  but  he's  worth  a  dozen  of  you.  He's 
a  great  genius,  and  he  would  not  swear  and  make  a 
beast  of  himself  to  a  kid  like  me." 

Then  Thorn  stammered  as  he  spoke,  and  that  stam- 
mer was  the  worst  sign  of  all  with  him. 

"Who's  Jacques?"  he  shouted.  "What  do  you 
mean  by  calling  that  fellow  Jacques  ?  If  you're  so  fond 
of  him,  why  don't  you  call  him  father,  and  try  to  be 
like  him?  In  the  way  you're  going  on,  indeed,  you've 
a  jolly  good  chance  of  succeeding.  Jacques!  Pah! 
You  make  me  sick.  The  man  is  not  even  white,  he's  a 
dirty  Levantine.  That's  what  he  is." 

And  then  young  Jim  struck  him  with  all  his  puny 
strength  in  the  face,  and  poor  Thorn,  beside  himself, 
took  up  a  light  stick  that  was  lying  on  the  table  and 
gave  him  a  caning. 

Now  here  is  where  the  masked  staircase  comes  in. 
It  was  a  short  staircase  leading  straight  from  this  room 


YELLOWLEAF  57 

to  the  hall  below,  and,  "by  bad  luck,  the  lower  door  was 
ajar;  by  worse  luck,  Aghassy,  leaving  his  room  to  go 
to  the  drawing-room  to  speak  to  Lady  Mary,  caught 
the  sound  of  angry  voices  which  he  could  not  locate. 

He  had  never  noticed  the  door  in  the  panelling,  and 
for  a  moment  he  stood,  bending  forward  in  one  of 
his  queer,  buffalo-like  attitudes,  listening.  At  that 
moment  he  caught  sight  of  the  break  in  the  smoothness 
of  the  panelling,  and  opened  the  door.  Jimmy  was 
swearing  like  a  young  Turk,  and,  mixed  with  his  voice, 
came  the  sound  of  somebody  being  beaten.  For  one 
moment  Aghassy  stood  perfectly  still,  a  curious  slow 
smile  creeping  over  his  face,  his  green  eyes  shining  bril- 
liantly; and  then  he  went  padding  softly  upstairs,  his 
slippered  feet  making  no  sound.  He  wrenched  the 
cane  out  of  Charles  Thorn's  hand  before  Thorn  knew 
he  was  in  the  room,  and  he  broke  it  over  his  knee  and 
threw  it  out  of  the  window.  Then,  one  of  his  strong, 
wonderful  hands  on  his  stepson's  shoulders,  he  made  a 
speech. 

"  This  won't  do,  Mr.  Thorn,"  he  said,  quietly,  look- 
ing up  from  under  his  eyebrows  in  his  buffalo-like  way. 
"  I  will  not  have  my  stepson  beaten  by  you  or  anyone 
else.  Now  then,  Jim,  trot  along  and  get  yourself  into 
shape  before  your  mother  sees  you.  We  will  not  tell 
her  about  this." 

Thorn,  whose  ebbing  anger  had  left  him  weaK  and 
trembling,  stared  at  him  stupidly. 

"  It's  all  right,  sir,  it's  all  right,"  Jim  put  in  eagerly, 
"  it  was  really  my  fault  I  struck  him." 

Aghassy  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  then  said 
thoughtfully,  his  eyes  fixed  on  Thorn's  ravaged,  sweat- 


58  YELLOWLEAF 

ing  face :  "  What  did  he  say  to  you  to  make  you 
strike  him?  " 

He  so  obviously  had  the  upper  hand,  and  poor 
Thorn,  whose  terrible  temper  the  whole  family  had 
always  regarded  as  much  an  hereditary  affliction  as 
gout  or  a  big  nose,  drew  a  deep  breath  that  was  almost 
like  a  sob. 

"  Go  downstairs,  Jim,"  he  said.  "  It's  all  right;  I 
had  no  business  to  make  a  brute  of  myself  like  that, 
and  I'm  sorry." 

Jim's  old  love  for  him  came  surging  back,  and  he 
hated  his  friend's  humiliation  before  the  outsider,  the 
newcomer,  as  much  as  did  Thorn  himself.  "  I  say, 
Jacques,"  the  boy  went  on  nervously,  "  please  don't  say 
any  more.  A  caning  is  nothing,  you  know,  to  us 
English." 

"  Us  English !  "  thundered  Aghassy,  "  ha !  ha !  You 
mean  I  am  not  English,  I  suppose.  Never  mind,  my 
boy,  I  won't  hurt  him." 

Then  he  added,  looking  full  into  Jim's  eyes  and 
speaking  very  softly  in  his  deep,  husky  voice:  "Go 
downstairs,  now." 

And  Jim  went 

v 

Neither  of  the  men  ever  referred  to  the  scene  to  the 
child.  He  never  knew  the  outcome  of  it.  No  one  else 
in  the  house  was  told  of  it,  and  no  one  of  them  ever  to 
his  dying  day  forgot  it  Jim  often  used  to  wonder 
which  of  the  two  men  had  been  the  most  terrible,  and 
never  was  able  to  make  up  his  mind. 

The  next  day  Charles  Thorn  went  abroad.  He  was 
gone  two  years. 


CHAPTER  V 


From  the  Lady  Mary  Dampierre  to  the  Honourable 
Charles  Thorn.  Hotel  Kits,  Paris. 

June  30. 
MY  DEAR  CHARLES, 

Your  leaving  so  suddenly  has  so  upset  my  poor 
old  head  that,  if  I  ever  stood  on  my  heels,  I  should 
not  know  whether  I  was  on  it,  or  them.  I  still  can 
hardly  believe,  my  dear  boy,  that  after  all  these  years 
you  have  left  poor  Yellowleaf.  You  were  a  very  little 
boy,  very  nobbly  about  the  knees,  and  as  freckled  as  a 
turkey's  egg,  when  I  brought  you  here,  nearly  forty 
years  ago.  How  I  used  to  cry  when  I  washed  you  at 
night  because  your  little  toes  were  so  exactly  like  your 
poor  mother's!  Do  your  little  toes  still  twist  in  that 
ridiculous  way,  I  wonder?  I  began  to  love  you  when 
you  were  three  days  old — all  mouth  and  voice,  like  a 
young  bird — and  I  love  you  still,  though  nowadays 
you  are  decidedly  not  all  voice,  my  dear.  It  is  odd 
that  I  of  all  women  should  live  with  two  such  silent 
creatures  as  you  and  Lily!  Yet  how  different  your 
silence  is  from  hers.  She  is  silent  like  a  flower  or  a 
pearl,  and  you  like  a  grim-edged  oyster.  Out  upon 
you!  Joking  apart,  Charles,  I  do  think  you  ought  to 
have  told  me  why  you  had  to  go.  I  am  very  fond  of 
you,  and  I  shall  miss  you  like  fury;  and  I  know, 
although  you  were  about  as  communicative  as  a  rat- 

59 


60  YELLOWLEAF 

trap,  that  it  is  Aghassy's  fault.  I  also  know  that  poor 
Jimmy  knows,  and,  of  course,  I  cannot  ask  him. 

He  cried  last  night  after  dinner,  but  he  doesn't 
know  I  saw  him.  I  was  very  sorry  Lily  was  so  stupid 
and  pig-headed  about  sending  him  to  school.  You  were 
perfectly  right,  he  ought  to  be  at  school,  and  now  that 
she  has  a  husband  to  look  after,  it's  very  selfish  of 
her  to  insist  on  keeping  the  child  at  home.  Your 
Uncle  Dan  thinks  so,  too.  He  was  here  to-day,  and 
did  his  best  to  persuade  Lily  to  send  him  to  Giles 
Dickenson's,  but  in  her  gentle  little  way  she's  per- 
fectly immovable  on  this  point.  I  am  glad  to  say 
Jacques  behaved  very  well  when  your  Uncle  Dan  spoke 
to  him  about  it;  he  said  that,  although  he  loved  Jim 
very  much,  he  was  Lily's  boy,  not  his,  and  that  she 
must  decide ;  but  between  you  and  me  I  think  the  dear 
little  idiot  decided  when  poor  Jim  died  that  she  would 
never  separate  herself  from  his  son. 

You  will  be  amused  to  hear  that  Bruno  and  I  had  a 
long  talk  about  things  this  afternoon.  He  had  wheeled 
me  down  my  inclined  plane  into  the  garden,  and  I  was 
sitting  in  the  rose-garden,  the  place  you  used  to  call 
"  Ispahan  " — do  you  remember  ?  Jacques  had  taken 
Lily  and  the  children  to  Ranelagh,  so  Bruno  and  I 
were  undisturbed.  He  has  a  very  logical  mind, 
Bruno,  and  our  memories  go  back  so  far  through  the 
years  side  by  side  that  we  see  things  pretty  well  eye 
to  eye,  although,  to  do  him  justice,  the  old  man  is,  I 
believe,  absolutely  unbiassed  by  my  ladyship. 

I  asked  him  what  he  thought  of  your  going  away, 
and  told  him  that  I  felt  very  much  grieved  by  it;  and 


YELLOWLEAF  61 

he  told  me  that  he  thought  it  was  the  best  thing 
1'onorevole  Signor  Carlo  could  have  done.  Then  he 
said  once  more,  sniffing  a  rose  I  had  given  him,  that 
he  considered  you  could  not  have  done  better  than  go 
away,  all  things  considered. 

My  dear  Charles,  I  wonder  what  he  meant  with  his 
"  all  things  considered."  He  is  very  subtle,  very  Latin, 
and  there  is  a  fine,  big  heart  beating  for  all  of  us  under 
his  butler's  coat,  and  it  was  very  evident  that  he  meant 
something  in  particular,  but  I  dared  not  ask  him  what 
it  was. 

Sometimes  I  have  thought  that  I  knew  something 
about  you  that  you  have  never  chosen  to  tell  me,  but  I 
have  never  asked  you.  I  am  not  asking  you  now,  my 
dear,  so  you  needn't  frown  your  funny,  crooked, 
Medician  frown!  We  are  not  very  easy  askers,  we 
Hainault  tribe,  are  we? 

Your  Uncle  Dan  says  we  must  get  a  tutor  at  once 
for  Jimmy,  and  to  this  Lily  agrees;  but  she  says  she 
won't  have  one  living  in  the  house,  for  a  particular 
reason  that  she  wouldn't  tell  anybody.  I,  however, 
wicked  old  thing  that  I  am,  know  the  particular  reason. 
Bruno  told  me.  She's  had  your  rooms  swept  and 
settled  down  for  a  long  rest,  and  the  two  doors  are 
locked,  my  dear,  and  no  strange,  casual  young  tutor  is 
going  to  have  your  room.  That's  what  she  means. 
Dear  little  Lily!  I  love  her  silent,  thoughtful  little 
sentimentalities.  This  man  is  very  devoted  to  her, 
and  I  hope  she's  happy;  and  yet,  do  you  know,  she 
always  wears  a  little  brooch  Jim  gave  her  while  she 
was  still  at  school — you  know,  with  the  little  "  L  "  and 


62  YELLOWLEAF 

"  J  "  in  diamonds.  It  is  late  at  night,  my  dear,  and 
the  faithful,  unpleasant  Drake  believes  me  to  be  asleep. 
I  am  sitting  up  in  bed,  looking  like  an  old  witch,  writ- 
ing, as  no  lady  of  seventy-eight  ought  to  be  writing; 
by  the  light  of  one  candle,  and  the  candle's  behaving 
very  badly.  It  seems  to  be  spitting  all  down  its  own 
sides,  and  I  must  go  to  sleep.  Some  day,  my  dear 
Charles,  I  mean  to  write  a  book  about  dreams,  the 
dreams  of  old  people,  for  do  you  know*  here  am  I,  an 
.old,  old  thing,  and  yet  almost  every  night  I  am  young 
again,  and  wandering  about  in  beautiful  parts  of  the 
earth  that  I  knew  when  I  was  young;  and  the  people 
who  are  with  me  are  not  old,  as  I  am,  but  young  and 
bold  and  bad,  many  of  them,  and  dear,  and  delightful ; 
and  oh,  my  dear  Charles,  so  many  of  them  make  love 
to  me!  Now,  good-night,  my  dear.  Write  to  me 
soon,  and  write  long  letters.  No  one  but  I  shall  see 
them,  and  when  I  have  read  them  through  I  will  burn 
them.  God  bless  you. 

Your  very  affectionate  aunt, 

MARY  CATHERINE  DAMPIERRE. 

ii 

From  the  Lady  Mary  Dampierre  to  the  Honourable 
Charles  Thorn,  Hotel  Ritz,  Paris. 

July  19. 
MY  DEAR  CHARLES, 

Your  description  of  French  food  upsets  me,  and 
gives  me  a  lawless  longing  to  fold  my  tent  and  fly  to 
Paris,  that  gastronomical  heaven;  but  I  am  glad  to 
know  that  you  are  thus  making  a  beast  of  yourself! 


YELLOWLEAF  63 

Overeating  has  helped  many  a  man  through  a.  bad 
time!  I  have  only  just  time  to  catch  the  post  to-day, 
but  I  must  write,  for  I  have  a  real  piece  of  news  for 
you.  Guess  who  is  coming  to  be  Jimmy's  tutor — that 
young  Martin,  who  was  your  Uncle  Dan's  secretary 
just  before  you  went  away  to  Greece  last  time.  You 
remember  him,  don't  you — an  underdone-looking 
young  man  with  olive-oil  coloured  hair.  Your  Uncle 
Dan  came  to  see  us  about  ten  days  ago,  and  he  and  I 
again  did  our  very  best  to  make  Lily  see  sense  about 
Jim ;  but  the  long  and  the  short  of  it  was  that  she  would 
not  send  him  to  school.  The  minx  got  hold  of  Arthur 
Hesketh,  and  he  certainly  did  say  that  home  tuition 
would  be  better  for  the  boy  until  he  gets  stronger.  I 
never  saw  the  doctor  yet  who  couldn't  be  twisted  round 
the  finger  of  a  pretty  woman,  and  poor,  dear  old 
Arthur  is  no  exception  to  this  rule.  The  next  thing 
was  to  find  a  tutor,  and  we  were  all  racking  our  brains 
and  boring  our  friends  about  it  when  suddenly  this 
Mr.  Martin  turned  up — he  came  to  call  on  Jacques,  as 
a  matter  of  fact,  and  I  think  it  was  Lily  who  suggested 
that  he  might  do  for  Jim.  He  had  been  a  tutor  for 
some  years  before  he  went  to  Dan  as  secretary,  and 
had  really  extraordinary  references;  so  though 
Aghassy  was  very  decent  about  it  and  seemed  to  hesi- 
tate about  putting  his  friend  forward  as  a  candidate, 
Lily  thought  it  an  excellent  plan,  so  he  came  about  a 
week  ago,  and  we  are  all  quite  used  to  him  and  like 
him  very  much,  although  he  is  too  lady-like  to  suit  me, 
and  has  a  very  big  upper  lip,  rather  like  a  rabbit's,  so 
that  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  at  any  minute  he  began 


64  YELLOWLEAF 

to  nibble  the  leaves  in  the  vases.  Jimmy  seems  to  like 
him,  .and  they  work  regularly,  so  all  is  well — but  oh, 
Charles  dear,  I  do  miss  your  ugly,  familiar  face,  and 
I  think  Jimmy  does,  too,  although  I  must  admit  that 
Jacques  is  the  best  stepfather  I  have  ever  seen  up  to 
this.  Picotee  adores  him  and  calls  him  "  Jakey,"  and 
he  doesn't  mind  a  bit;  and  he  is  giving  her  for  her 
birthday  a  most  delightful  saddle-horse  that  must  have 
cost  a  great  deal  of  money.  Even  he  can't  conceal  the 
price  of  a  horse ! 

You  ask  me  how  Lily  seems.  I  can  only  say  she's 
just  the  same,  I  think  she  laughs  a  little  oftener, 
which  is  good.  Her  laughter  is  musical  and  soft,  as 
you  know,  and  one  can't  hear  it  too  often.  The  old 
house  has  all  its  windows  open  this  fine  weather,  and 
the  sun  comes  in,  and  the  wind  blows  through — our 
island's  richness  in  winds  can't  be  denied,  however 
ungenerous  its  sun  is ! — and  the  garden  is  really  a  very 
fragrant,  lovely  place.  We  are  a  dull,  peaceful  happy 
household,  and  I  hope  we  may  remain  so. 

So  you  are  going  to  Russia!  Have  you  ever 
thought,  my  dear  Charles,  what  a  good  thing  it  is  with 
people  like  us  that  we  have  plenty  of  money  without 
working  for  it?  I  suppose  the  Socialists  would  think 
we  don't  deserve  it,  and  probably  we  don't;  but  we 
don't  do  much  harm,  do  we?  and  surely,  the  more  a 
man  or  woman  can  see,  without  distressing  or  upsetting 
other  people,  of  this  beautiful,  enchanting  world,  the 
better  must  be  pleased  the  intelligent  God  who  made 
us.  Bruno  has  just  given  me  a  little  booklet  with  little 
pictures  in  it,  and  I  have  been  reading  it.  My  dear 


YELLOWLEAF  65 

Charles,  do  you  know  I  almost  wish  that  I  believed  in 
some  sectarian  deity.  It  must  be  pleasant  to  be  able 
to  think  people  who  go  to  another  kind  of  church  from 
one's  own  must  be  heading  for  hell-fire !  But  I  can't. 
One  church  seems  to  me  exactly  as  good  as  the  others, 
and  best  of  all  I  still  feel  the  old  days  to  have  been — 
the  days  of  Poseidon,  and  Thetis  the  silver-footed,  and 
grey-eyed  Athene — the  days  when  Dawn,  the  rosy- 
fingered,  coloured  the  world. 

And  here  I  am,  rambling  along,  a  garrulous,  irre- 
ligious old  female  who  ought  to  know  better,  and  while 
I  have  talked  nonsense  to  you  the  post  has  gone,  and 
you  won't  get  this  letter — invaluable  document — until 
Thursday.  God  bless  you,  my  dear  Charles.  Don't 
marry  a  Russian  princess,  and  do  come  back  before  I 
am  dead. 

Your  affectionate  aunt, 

MARY  CATHERINE  DAM  PIERRE. 

in 

From  the  Lady  Mary  Dampierre  to  the  Honourable 

Charles  Thorn,  care  of  H.  B.  M.  Minister, 

Teheran,  Persia. 

February  n. 
MY  DEAR  CHARLES, 

Your  letter  has  just  this  minute  arrived,  and  we 
have  never  had  the  two  you  refer  to.  Not  one  word 
have  I  had  from  you  since  you  were  at  Moscow.  I  was 
at  Moscow  once,  many  years  ago.  Oh  dear,  oh  dear, 
how  many  years!  And  we  stayed  at  a  hotel  looking 
over  the  English  Park,  and  the  beds  were  so  short  that 
5 


66  YELLOWLEAF 

your  uncle  Arthur  had  to  sleep  with  his  feet  on  an  arm- 
chair at  the  side  of  his.  You  seem  to  be  having  a  very 
good  time,  and  not  missing  your  afflicted  family  as 
you  should.  However,  your  two  last  letters  may  have 
been  full  of  laments  and  home-sickness,  so  I  shall  not 
scold  you.  You  ask  how  Martin  is  getting  along; 
that  looks  as  if  you  had  never  had  a  very  long  letter 
Jimmy  sent  you  to  the  address  you  gave  in  Odessa. 
Well,  Martin  is  very  satisfactory ;  though,  apart  from 
his  duties,  he  is  remarkably  dull.  He  adores  Jacques, 
who  is  very  kind  to  him,  as  indeed  he  is  to  everybody. 
I  think  Jacques  must,  years  ago,  have  done  Martin 
some  very  good  turn,  for  the  little  man  seems  full  of 
gratitude  towards  him.  Jim  had  some  very  stiff  exams 
about  a  month  ago  and  came  out  famously.  Martin 
says  they  were  as  difficult  as  any  public  school  exams 
that  a  boy  of  seventeen  would  have  to  undergo,  so  as 
Jimmy  is  not  yet  sixteen,  we  are  all  very  pleased. 

His  heart  is  better,  and  Arthur  Hesketh  says  that  if 
he  goes  on  leading  a  quiet  and  reasonable  life  there  is 
no  reason  why  his  weakness  should  not  be  quite  out- 
grown by  the  time  he  is  twenty.  Of  course,  it  is  rather 
hard  to  keep  a  boy  of  his  age  quiet,  particularly  as  he 
has  a  strong  liking  for  going  to  the  play.  It's  the  only 
form  of  amusement  that  Jacques  likes,  so  they  natur- 
ally encourage  each  other,  and  indulge  in  it.  I  do  not 
suppose  going  to  the  theatre  can  really  hurt  Jim;  but 
he  is  very  delicate,  of  course,  and  I  notice  that  he 
always  looks  very  tired  the  day  after  one  of  these 
sprees,  as  they  call  them.  Picotee,  as  I  told  you,  is  at 
school  at  Paris — at  that  nice  place  where  the  Branting- 


YELLOWLEAF  67 

ham  girls  went.  She  loves  it,  and  her  French  is  very 
much  improved. 

No  news,  except  that  your  Uncle  Dan  has  got  all 
right  again  after  his  alarming  attack,  and  we  are  all 
going  to  Oving-Wellow  for  August  and  September  as 
usual.  He  is  going  to  give  Jim  a  little  motor-car  for 
his  birthday,  as  Arthur  Hesketh  says  it  will  be  good 
for  him.  Did  you  get  the  papers  I  sent  you  with  the 
articles  about  Jacques?  They  were  really  wonderful. 
Everybody  seems  to  think  that  there  is  no  one  alive 
now  who  can  touch  him,  and  his  music  is  a  great  happi- 
ness to  me.  He  is  so  kind  and  simple  about  playing 
for  us,  too.  He  is  really  very  kind  to  us  all,  about 
everything,  not  only  about  playing,  and  so  wonder- 
fully unassuming  and  modest  about  things;  but  still,  I 
don't  trust  him  quite,  and  sometimes  on  my  bad  days, 
when  my  heart  is  wrong,  I  can  almost  see  a  great,  thick 
cloud  hanging  lower  and  lower  over  the  house. 

What  a  dull  old  creature  I  am  to  dismalize  to  you 
like  this;  but,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  am  moulting  men- 
tally just  now.  My  mind  is  positively  mildewed.  I 
am  beginning  to  feel  old,  and  don't  like  it.  Bruno 
hates  it,  too,  and  we  lament  together,  to  Drake's  dis- 
gust Drake  is  as  perfect  a  maid  and  as  insufferable  a 
woman  as  ever ! 

Poor  little  Polenta  is  dead — Bruno's  dog,  you 
know — and  he  has  bought  a  most  revolting  pup,  fifty- 
yelp-power,  a  horrid  dog  full  of  Babylonian  vices,  and 
his  name  is  Risotto. 

My  dear  Charles,  I  wish  you  were  here;  but  there 
you  are,  in  your  rose-garden,  living  on  boiled  rice  and 


68  YELLOWLEAF 

coagulated  milk  and  smoking  a  water-pipe,  I  suppose. 
You  have  grown  a  beard,  and  dyed  it  with  henna; 
perhaps  you  are  riding  on  a  big  camel  with  feet  like 
sponges.  Bismilla!  Mashallah!  By  the  way,  if  you 
see  any  of  that  iridescent  Kashan  lustre  ware,  get  me 
a  bit  of  it,  and  some  pear-wood  sherbet-spoons.  For- 
give this  dull  letter  and  write  soon  to  your  very  affec- 
tionate aunt, 

MARY  CATHERINE  DAM  PIERRE. 
P.  S. — Remember  you  have  been  away  nearly  a 
^ear.    If  you  are  not  careful,  I  shall  have  grown  up 
before  you  are  back. 

rv 

(A  YEAR  LATER) 

To  the  Honourable  Charles  Thorn,  Nikko,  Japan, 
from  the  Lady  Mary  Dampierre. 

April  15. 
MY  DEAR  CHARLES, 

Thanks  for  your  loving  and  sympathetic  cable- 
gram. I  am  glad,  we  are  all  glad,  that  you  did  not 
hurry  back,  and  we  hope  that  by  this  time  you  are 
quite  well  again.  You  will  have  had  Lily's  letter,  and 
I  think  Picotee's,  so  I  won't  repeat  what  they  have 
told  you.  It  was  so  sudden,  and  his  being  three  years 
younger  than  me,  he  seemed  likely  to  live  longer  than 
I ;  and  here  he  is  gone,  the  last  of  my  generation,  my 
only  brother,  my  dear,  dear  old  Dan!  I  can  hardly 
believe  it  even  now.  Of  course  we  buried  him  at 
Oving-Wellow,  and  it  was  odd  to  think  as  I  sat  in  my 
chair  at  the  edge  of  the  vault  that  only  one  more  coffin 


YELLOWLEAF  69 

would,  according  to  my  father's  will,  follow  his  into 
that  darkness,  and  that  that  one  coffin  would  be  mine. 
Is  it  not  odd  to  reflect,  dear  Charles,  that  whatever 
Life  can  do  to  one,  every  man  and  every  woman  can 
count  on  that  last,  unfailing  possession — a  coffin !  The 
funeral  was  on  the  I7th  of  March,  a  blowy  day  with 
gusts  of  rain  and  big  cracks  of  blue  in  a  grey  sky.  It 
was  a  neuralgic,  rheumatic  day,  and  I  could  not  help 
thinking  that  your  Uncle  Dan  would  have  hated  the 
draughts  in  the  church  if  he  had  been  able  to  feel  them. 
Picotee,  of  course,  was  not  there,  but  the  rest  of  us 
were,  and  Jacques  was  extremely  gentle  and  kind  with 
Lily,  who,  as  you  know,  was  always  very  fond  of  her 
Uncle  Dan,  and  whose  quiet  grief  was  very  deep.  Jim, 
who  has  grown  very  tall  and  looks  extremely  delicate, 
though  Jacques  assures  me  I  am  over-anxious  about 
him,  looked  very  like  my  mother  as  he  stood  there,  all 
in  black,  during  the  service.  I  have  got  to  the  time 
of  life  when  one  easily  sees  in  young  people  resem- 
blances to  the  dead  and  gone  of  one's  own  generation. 
Mr.  Martin,  whom  Picotee  and  I  secretly  call  "  the 
Maggot,"  did  not  come,  and  Maud  was  in  Italy,  so 
there  were  only  us  four  from  Yellowleaf,  and  Arthur 
Hesketh — who  has  had  all  his  front  teeth  out,  which 
alters  his  profile  for  the  worse — and  one  or  two  neigh- 
bours. The  Duke  was  very  kind,  said  he  had  always 
valued  William — as  he  called  him,  and  as  I  suppose  I 
ought  to,  "  Daniel  Lambert "  being  hardly  a  nickname 
that  one  ought  to  apply  to  one's  newly  dead  brother. 
Mr.  Prescott  read  the  will,  which  was  not  a  surprise 
to  anybody  of  the  family  except  in  one  thing,  and  I 


70  YELLOWLEAF 

hope,  my  dear  boy,  that  for  the  sake  of  a  dead  old  man 
who  loved  you,  and  a  comparatively  alive  old  woman 
who  does  love  you,  you  will  make  the  sacrifice  it  asks 
you.  By  a  codicil,  made  as  recently  as  January,  your 
Uncle  Dan  appoints  you  and  Jacques  joint  guardians 
to  Jimmy.  You  knew  that  you  were  to  be  guardian, 
of  course,  and  I  know  that  the  appointment  of  Jacques 
will  not  please  you ;  but  my  brother,  who  was  a  clever 
and  wise  old  man,  thought  a  great  deal  about  this  mat- 
ter before  he  made  up  his  mind,  and  he  has  not  done 
it  out  of  empty  compliment  to  Lily,  as  you  may  be 
inclined  to  think. 

Jacques  and  Lily  have  been  married  nearly  two  and 
a  half  years,  and  since  their  marriage,  more  particu- 
larly during  the  last  eighteen  months,  your  Uncle  Dan 
has  been  here  at  Yellowleaf  more  than  ever  before.  He 
and  Lily  had  grown  to  be  great  friends,  and  like  all  old 
people  who  have  few  relations  and  friends  left,  he  and 
I  drew  together  very  closely  towards  the  last.  The 
second  stroke,  you  remember,  took  place  here,  and  for 
two  months  he  never  left  the  house;  so  you  see  he  had 
many  opportunities  of  studying  Jacques,  and  he  did 
study  him,  and  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  all  of  us, 
and  particularly  I,  had  been  unjust  and  foolish  about 
him.  He  told  me  a  fortnight  before  his  death  that  he 
believed  Jacques  to  be  a  perfectly  good  and  sincere 
man,  and  that  he  had  a  great  respect  for  him ;  and  it  is 
because  of  this  trust  and  respect  that  he  has  paid  him 
the  compliment  of  appointing  him  one  of  Jimmy's 
guardians.  Your  poor  Uncle  has  left  everything  he 
had  in  the  world  to  Jimmy,  and  he  wished  him  to  take 


YELLOWLEAF  71 

his  name.  I  believe  it  will  be  arranged  later  for  the 
boy  to  have  the  title,  as  the  King  was  always  good 
enough  to  tell  your  uncle  how  much  he  regretted  the 
possibility  of  the  name's  dying  out,  and  once  hinted 
that  the  matter  of  the  title  could  be  made  possible,  and 
Lily's  being  born  a  Dampierre  of  course  simplifies 
it,  too. 

So  there  you  are,  my  dear,  and  I  hope  you  will 
come  home  to  take  up  your  duties,  as  undoubtedly  you 
ought  to  do.  Whatever  your  private  feelings  may  be 
towards  Jacques,  I  know  him  well  enough  now  to  be 
able  to  answer  for  one  thing  at  least:  he  will  make 
everything  as  easy  as  possible  for  you,  and  meet  you 
more  than  half-way  in  any  efforts  at  friendliness  you 
may  make  towards  him. 

Dear  Charles,  I  am  eighty  years  old,  and  the  wood 
that  is  to  enclose  my  bones  is  probably  already  cut  and 
drying  in  some  undertaker's  yard.  Come  back  soon; 
I  want  to  see  you.  We  all  want  to  see  you.  Bruno 
was  saying  only  a  few  days  ago  that  he  wished 
1'onorevole  Signor  Carlo  would  come  back.  It  seems 
he  saw  a  crocus  in  the  garden  and,  for  some  reason,  it 
reminded  him  of  you.  God  knows  why. 
Your  affectionate  old  aunt, 

MARY  CATHERINE  DAMPIERRE. 


CHAPTER  VI 


CHARLES  THORN  came  back  by  way  of  America  as 
quickly  as  he  could,  reaching  London  in  June. 

He  arrived  about  dinner-time,  and  came  straight 
into  the  drawing-room  to  the  old  lady's  Corner,  where 
the  whole  family  were  awaiting  him.  Aghassy  rose 
and  greeted  him  cordially.  For  a  moment  they  looked 
into  each  other's  eyes,  and  when  they  looked  away 
there  was  a  little  silence.  Then  Picotee  burst  out: 
"  Oh,  Charles,  your  hair!  " 

Thorn's  hair,  indeed,  was  of  a  uniform  iron  grey, 
which,  combined  with  the  sun-burn  of  nearly  two  years 
under  a  grilling  eastern  sun,  had  changed  him  very 
much.  He  looked  well,  but  the  gentle  sadness,  that 
was  so  like  that  of  Giovanni  de  Medici,  had  lost  its 
look  of  possible  fleetingness  and  become  permanent. 
His  clothes,  particularly  his  collar,  had  an  old-fash- 
ioned air,  and  his  hands  had  been  burnt  until  they  were 
nearly  black. 

For  his  part  he  found  changes  everywhere.  Lady 
Mary  looked  smaller,  and  the  top  of  her  wheel-chair 
higher,  and  her  great  piece  of  tapestry  was  nearly 
finished.  Picotee,  whom  he  had  left  a  bulging  child, 
might  now  with  truth  he  complimented  by  the  pretty 
term  "  a  young  maid."  She  was,  indeed,  nearly  fifteen, 
and  seemed  much  more  mature  and  sure  of  herself 
than  Jim,  who  was  only  four  months  short  of 
seventeen. 


YELLOWLEAF  73 

Charles  Thorn  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and  turned 
his  eyes  towards  Mrs.  Aghassy.  She  was  the  least 
changed  of  the  group,  and  in  her  soft  mourning,  with 
a  string  of  pearls  round  her  little  delicate  throat,  she 
looked  very  slight,  very  young,  and,  to  him,  very 
lovely.  Aghassy,  who  was  already  dressed  for  dinner, 
had  put  on  weight,  and,  Thorn's  quietly  observant  eyes 
noticed,  was  wearing  a  collar  of  a  size  larger  than 
formerly.  He  looked  very  well,  very  prosperous.  His 
queer,  tilted  eyes  were  as  clear  as  those  of  a  child. 
Life  had  evidently  been  good  to  him. 

Thorn  shivered  and  drew  closer  to  the  fire.  "  It's 
chilly,"  he  said,  and  everybody  laughed,  for  it  appeared 
that  that  day  had  been  the  hottest  known  in  England 
for  some  years. 

II 

After  dinner  Aghassy  went  to  his  study,  and  Jim 
and  Picotee  accompanied  Thorn  to  his  old  rooms,  and 
helped  him  open  his  trunks  and  find  the  many  presents 
he  had  brought  for  everybody.  He  had  not  forgotten 
the  pear-wood  sherbet-spoons,  and  there  was  a  string 
of  turquoise  beads  from  the  mines  of  Nishapin,  carved 
ivories  for  Jim,  pieces  of  Shiraz  enamel  for  everybody, 
and  for  Lady  Mary  the  most  beautiful  of  silver-grey 
kimonos,  with  cranes  not  embroidered,  but  woven  into 
it.  For  Bruno  he  had  some  wonderful  tobacco,  and  a 
pair  of  flamboyant,  crimson  leather,  Persian  slippers. 

Picotee,  who  stood  before  the  glass  admiring  her- 
self with  the  beads  round  her  neck,  asked  him  had  he 
brought  anything  for  her  mother. 


74  YELLOWLEAF 

"  Indeed  I  have,  for  her  and "  he  hesitated, 

"  Aghassy  together." 

After  a  few  minutes  he  produced  from  one  of  the 
largest  boxes  a  small  carpet,  about  five  feet  five  by 
three  feet  eight,  and  with  this  over  his  big  shoulder,  he 
led  the  way  downstairs  and  back  to  the  drawing-room. 

Lily  was  very  grateful  for  the  gift,  which  she  called 
"  very  beautiful,"  and  "  quite  lovely  " ;  and  Lady  Mary 
knew  enough  to  realize  that  it  was  a  prayer  rug  of  the 
best  period — that  is,  the  sixteenth  century.  But  when, 
after  an  hour's  tactful  absence,  Aghassy  joined  the 
little  party  in  the  drawing-room,  and  his  wife  ex- 
plained to  him  that  the  strip  of  beautiful  coloured  wool 
over  the  chair  was  a  gift  for  him  as  well  as  for  her,  his 
demeanour  was  so  odd  that  he  startled  everybody. 
His  long  green  eyes  opened  suddenly  as  he  looked  at 
the  rug,  and  a  deep  flush  crept  up  over  his  face,  and, 
taking  the  thing  in  his  hands  as  if  it  were  a  shawl  in  a 
way  that  struck  Lady  Mary  as  being  foreign  and  queer, 
he  turned  it  over  and  bent  his  head  down  to  it,  looking, 
as  Jim  afterwards  said,  "as  if  he  were  going  to  taste 
or  smell  it."  Then,  straightening  himself  up,  and 
crumpling  the  marvellously  soft  fabric  with  one  of  his 
big  hands,  said,  looking  at  Charles  Thorn ;  "  This  must 
be  nearly  three  hundred  and  eighty  knots  to  a  square 
inch." 

Thorn  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Shah  Abbas?" 

Again  Thorn  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

Aghassy  persisted :  "  It's  a  Seistan  rug." 

But  Thorn  seemed  to  know  very  little  about  the 


[YELLOWLEAF  75 

thing.  "  I  like  the  colours,"  he  said  modestly,  "  and 
that  pine-apple  thing " 

Lady  Mary  hadn't  the  slightest  idea  what  they  were 
talking  about,  but  she  knew,  as  her  eyes  rested  on  her 
nephew's  face,  that  for  some  reason  he  was  doing  what 
to  him  was  a  very  unusual  thing ;  he  was  lying.  There 
was  a  pause,  and  then,  with  a  few  words  of  conven- 
tional thanks  for  his  share  in  the  gift,  Aghassy  rose 
and,  with  an  affectionate  smile  at  Lady  Mary,  strolled 
round  the  Corner,  and  after  a  few  moments  opened 
the  piano. 

Thorn,  as  he  listened  to  the  flood  of  music  that,  wild 
at  first,  gradually  settled  down  into  the  gentlest  beauty, 
wondered  that  he  had  never  before  noticed  Jim's  re- 
semblance to  his  mother. 

Lily  sat  in  the  big  chair  covered  with  Japanese- 
plum  coloured  satin,  and  Jim  was  sitting  on  the  floor 
near  her  smoking  a  cigarette.  Lily  was  pretty,  her 
smooth  features  almost  too  regular,  her  soft  brown 
hair  silky  and  gleaming  with  care.  Jim's  nose  was  too 
big,  his  eyes  too  small,  and  his  hair  stood  up  in  a 
ridiculous  tuft  like  a  cockatoo's;  but  they  were  very 
alike,  and  it  struck  the  home-comer  with  a  sharp  pang, 
that  he  instantly  stigmatized  as  jealousy,  that  the 
boy's  expression,  as  he  listened  to  the  music,  was 
almost  as  adoring  as  was  his  mother's.  In  the  old 
days  Jim  had  been  altogether  Thorn's,  and  now  Thorn, 
poor  lonely  devil,  asked  himself  whether  by  losing 
heart  and  abandoning  the  field  to  the  man  he  hated 
he  had  lost  the  boy's  love. 

The  music  went  on  and  on,  Lily  and  Jim  were  float- 


76  YELLOWLEAF 

ing  in  bliss  on  its  waves;  Lady  Mary's  long,  pathetic 
eyelashes — eyelashes  that  had  been  celebrated  all  her 
life,  and  of  which  she  was  very  proud — drooped  on 
her  cheeks;  Picotee  was  reading  quietly.  Thorn  felt 
utterly  alone  and  miserable.  He  had  come  home  in 
obedience  to  his  old  uncle's  wishes  and  because  his 
aunt  missed  him,  but  he  felt  a  very  Rip  Van  Winkle  as 
he  sat  there  and  watched  the  three  people  he  loved, 
the  only  three  people  in  the  world  whom  he  loved, 
listening  spell-bound  to  the  music  of  the  man  with 
whom  he  had  made  friends,  with  whom  he  was  hence- 
forth to  be  closely  associated  in  their  common  guard- 
ianship of  the  boy,  and  whom  he  hated. 

in 

The  next  morning  Charles  Thorn  and  Aghassy  had 
a  talk  together  which,  from  its  ceremony  and  formal- 
ism, might  almost  have  been  called  a  council.  It  took 
place  in  the  austere  music-room,  where  all  the  windows 
were  open,  and  Thorn  never  remembered  it  without 
thinking  of  the  smell  of  lilacs;  also  he  never  smelt 
lilacs  without  remembering  the  council. 

Aghassy,  who  seemed  instinctively  and  without  any 
assumption  of  authority  to  take  the  lead,  shook  hands 
with  him  gravely  and  bade  him  sit  down  in  the  one 
chair  the  room  contained.  He  himself  sat  on  the 
piano-stool,  and,  folding  his  arms  over  his  great  chest, 
began  at  once  by  saying  pleasantly :  "  I  am  afraid, 
Mr.  Thorn,  that  this  will — or,  rather,  this  codicil — of 
Lord  Hainault's  has  been  something  of  a  shock  to 
you." 


YELLOWLEAF  77 

Charles  nodded  as  gravely.  "  It  has,"  he  said,  "  but 
I  am  prepared  to  obey  it." 

"  Good !  Then  I  take  it  that  on  this  matter  of  my 
wife's  son,  we  meet  on  neutral  ground." 

Thorn's  face,  which  hitherto  had  worn  an  almost 
sour  expression,  brightened  suddenly,  as  his  thin  lips 
stretched  in  what  Lady  Mary  always  called  his  Medi- 
cian  grimace. 

"  We  do,"  he  said,  "  and  it  will  make  things  easier 
for  both  of  us  that  we  talk  plainly.  The  first  thing  I 
wanted  to  ask  you  was  what  you  think  of  Jim's  health. 
He  looks  to  me  very  weedy,  and  it  is  plain  that  he  is 
highly  nervous," 

Aghassy  sketched  a  movement  with  his  expressive 
hands,  and  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Nervous !  Yes. 
It  is  a  pity,  but  it  is  the  malady  of  the  period.  Nearly 
everyone  is  nervous  nowadays,  and  my  dear  wife, 
although  so  gentle  and  quiet,  is,  as  you  no  doubt  know, 
a  very  highly  strung  woman." 

"  Exactly !  My  aunt  tells  me  that  Doctor  Hesketh 
has  backed  Lily  in  her  decision  to  keep  the  boy  at 
home " 

Aghassy  interrupted :  "  A  decision  you  doubtless 
deplore  ?  " 

Charles  watched  him  as  he  lighted  a  cigarette, 
which  he  had  rolled  himself,  before  he  answered : 

"  You  are  mistaken,  Aghassy."  And  the  dropping 
of  the  formal  "  Mr."  was  an  effort  and  a  concession 
fully  appreciated  by  the  other  man.  "  I  don't  regret 
the  boy's  being  kept  at  home.  He  is  very  delicate  and 
always  has  been,  and  I  am  by  no  means  a  whole- 


78  YELLOWLEAF 

hearted  champion  of  our  public-school  system.  He  is 
a  very  intelligent  boy,  naturally  a  student,  and  as  it  is 
plain  that  he  means  to  be  an  artist — a  painter — I  have 
nothing  whatever  to  say  against  his  being  educated  at 
home.  But  tell  me  about  this  fellow  Martin.  I  have 
not  seen  him  for  several  years.  I  knew  him  very 
slightly  when  he  was  my  uncle's  secretary,  but  he  didn't 
strike  me  then  as  being  a  particularly  forceful  person, 
and  Jim  needs  guidance." 

Aghassy  looked  up  smiling;  his  lower  lip  projected 
a  trifle  more  than  formerly,  and  his  dimples  had 
lengthened  and  narrowed;  the  day  was  coming  when 
they  would  be  wrinkles. 

"  You  forget,"  he  said  softly,  watching  the  blue 
smoke  of  his  cigarette  mounting  in  the  still,  sunny  air, 
"me.  I  am  very  fond  of  my  wife's  son,  and  like  to 
think  that  my  influence  over  him  is  a  strong  one." 

Thorn  nodded,  with  an  odd  feeling  of  defeat,  and 
there  was  a  pause.  Then  Aghassy  again  spoke,  and 
the  conference  went  on,  lasting  in  all  about  an  hour. 

Outside  in  the  sun  Jim  and  Picotee  were  playing 
tennis,  sprawling  and  lunging  about  the  court  in  the 
beautiful,  graceful 'awkwardness  of  their  years.  The 
sound  of  their  laughter  came  in  at  the  open  window, 
punctuating  the  grave  deliberations  of  their  elders. 
Charles  felt  suddenly  very  old-fashioned,  very  old, 
very  beaten.  When  the  clock  struck  half -past  eleven 
the  door  opened,  and  Bruno  came  in,  the  tidiest,  clean- 
est of  old  men  in  his  grey  trousers  and  black  coat,  his 
immaculate  hands,  brown  and  withered,  bearing  a 
small  tray  with  a  glittering  glass  carafe  of  wine,  a  plate 


YELLOWLEAF  79 

of  biscuits,  and  two  glasses.  When  he  had  gone, 
Aghassy  rose,  and,  going  to  the  window,  passed  into 
the  gallery,  which  in  these  hot  summer  days  was  de- 
lightfully shaded  with  a  green  canvas  awning;  he 
called  Jim.  The  boy  fired  a  last  ball  at  his  sister,  and 
then  came  up  the  steps.  Picotee  did  not  follow  him, 
but  sat  down  cross-legged  on  the  grass,  and  pretended 
to  play  the  guitar  on  her  racket. 

It  struck  Charles  Thorn,  for  the  second  or  third 
time  since  his  return,  that  it  was  extraordinary  how 
instantly  and  unfailingly  Aghassy  was  obeyed  by 
everybody  in  the  house.  No  one  ever  hesitated  or 
argued  when  he  had  given  an  order  or  even  expressed 
a  wish,  and  now  Jimmy  came  slouching  into  the  room, 
wiping  his  forehead  on  his  handkerchief,  his  face 
flushed,  his  eyes  full  of  light,  his  too  red  lips  parted 
merrily  over  his  teeth. 

"  Hullo,  Charles,"  he  said.  "  Are  you  going  to 
have  a  drink  with  us?  " 

Aghassy  laughed.  "  How  dissipated  you  make 
Doctor  Hesketh's  morning  glass  of  port  sound,  my 
dear  boy!  Sit  down  in  the  corner  out  of  the  draught, 
you  rascal." 

Jim  sat  down,  and  Aghassy  poured  out  three  glasses 
of  wine,  two  of  which  he  handed  to  the  others  with  a 
little  air  of  ceremony  that  was  rather  pleasant.  Then 
they  all  three  nibbled  biscuits  and  drank  their  wine. 
It  made  a  pleasant  picture,  and  Aghassy's  queer  feline 
face  was  full  of  kindliness  and  unassuming  hospitality. 

Charles  Thorn  never  forgot  that  little  episode. 


CHAPTER  VII 


THAT  evening  Lily  Aghassy  sat  upstairs  in  the 
little  morning-room,  that  always  had  been  hers,  sew- 
ing. It  was  raining,  but,  like  many  people  who  take  no 
exercise  and  rarely  go  out  of  the  house,  she  was  very 
fond  of  fresh  air,  and  both  windows  were  wide  open. 
On  the  bricks  of  the  little  courtyard  between  the  fire- 
place side  of  Lady  Mary's  Corner  and  the  side  of  the 
conservatory,  rain-drops  were  thudding  down  so  fast 
that  each  one  made  a  tiny  fountain  by  its  impact.  In 
the  middle  of  this  courtyard  grew  a  white  birch,  and  so 
silvery  were  its  dark  leaves  that  it  seemed  as  if  it  and 
the  rain  were  sisters.  The  study  was  a  small  room, 
shabby  in  so  far  that  nothing  in  it,  not  even  the 
chintzes,  was  ever  renewed  until  it  was  absolutely 
necessary,  for  Lily  was  one  of  those  women  who  love 
their  possessions,  their  little  belongings,  all  of  which 
are,  to  such  people,  intensely,  inextricably  associated 
with  events  and  people.  Here  on  the  wall  still  hung 
thirty-year-old  photographs  of  her  father  and  mother, 
and  the  few  books  in  the  little  white  wood  shelves  had 
hardly  been  added  to  since  her  girlhood.  She  was  no 
reader.  It  was  a  faintly  rosy  little  room,  full  of  little 
old  gifts  and  souvenirs,  and  its  mental  atmosphere 
was  like  its  owner's — still  and  reserved,  and  less  indefi- 
nite than  it  seemed  at  first.  People  remembered  it  as 
they  did  Lily,  with  a  clarity  of  vision  that  surprised 
80 


YELLOWLEAF  81 

themselves.  She  was  sitting  now  by  the  open  window 
in  an  old  American  rocking-chair,  and  as  she  sewed 
she  rocked  gently  and  rhythmically;  it  seemed  as  if 
the  chair  rocked  her  rather  than  that  she  rocked  it,  so 
passive  and  at  ease  did  her  little  figure  look;  but  her 
face  wore  a  look  of  gravity,  almost  anxiety,  as  she 
stitched  away  on  some  long  white  frill.  This  was  an 
expression  that  for  all  her  simplicity  of  mind  she  never 
allowed  her  face  to  wear  when  she  was  with  her  sharp- 
sighted  old  mother-in-law,  and  when,  presently,  a 
knock  came  at  her  door  and  she  called  out,  "  Come  in," 
by  some  innocent,  unconscious,  artifice  she  was  smiling 
as  she  looked  up. 

It  was  Charles  Thorn,  and  he  told  her  as  he  entered 
that  Aghassy  had  told  him  he  would  find  her  there. 
He  sat  down  near  her,  and,  clasping  his  hands  behind 
his  grey  head,  let  his  eyes  rest  on  her  with  a  luxurious 
completeness  that  he  rarely  allowed  them ;  for  he  was  a 
man  whose  eyes  never  obtruded  on  any  face,  and  who 
was  indeed  distinguished  in  his  relations  with  women 
by  a  kind  of  shy  dignity,  or  dignified  shyness,  that  was 
old-fashioned  and  rather  attractive. 

"  I  have  been  talking  to  Martin,"  he  began  at  last. 
"  He  has  had  tea  with  Aunt  Mary  and  me,  and  then  we 
went  and  sat  in  the  garden  until  the  rain  began." 

"  Yes,  Charles." 

"  He  seems  a  good  chap,"  Thorn  said  slowly.  "  I 
think  I  rather  like  him." 

She  looked  up,  arching  her  eyebrows  a  little. 
"  Didn't  you  expect  to  like  him  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Hadn't 
Mamma  told  you  that  we  all  do — Jacques,  I  mean?  " 
6 


82  YELLOWLEAF 

"Ah,  yes,  I  know;  but  you  must  remember  that 
Aghassy  and  I  are  joint  guardians  for  another  four 
years;  I  was  bound  to  judge  the  man,  no  matter  who 
liked  him." 

She  looked  down  at  her  work,  and,  clasping  her 
hands  in  a  childish  way  that  she  had  never  lost,  asked 
him  with  much  gravity  if  he  had  seen  Jimmy's  draw- 
ings, and  did  he  not  think  them  beautiful. 

"  I  think  they  show  great  promise,  though  what  I 
think  doesn't  matter  much.  I  suppose  before  long  you 
will  be  sending  him  to  Paris  or  somewhere  for  proper 
teaching  ?  " 

She  gave  a  little  cry  of  alarm ;  "  Oh  no,  oh  no, 
Charles!  Not  to  France!  He  can  study  here  in 
England " 

Thorn  burst  out  laughing,  although  perhaps  there 
was  not  much  of  a  burst  about  his  soft,  rather  dry 
laughter,  as  he  accused  her  of  insularity,  which,  after 
all,  is  only  another  word  for  ignorance.  He  felt  the 
irritation  that  travelled  English  people,,  who  speak  real 
French,  invariably  feel  when  brought  up  against  the 
absurd  prejudices  of  their  untravelled,  one-tongued 
countrymen. 

"  The  French  people  as  a  nation,"  he  declared,  "  are 
saner,  more  honest-minded,  and  a  damned  sight  more 
moral  than  we  are,  Lily.  However,  that  doesn't  mat- 
ter. Why  I  came  up  to  see  you  now  is,  that  I  had  a 
long  talk  with  Aghassy  this  morning  about  Jimmy,  and 
that  he  advised  me  to  ask  you  what  you  think  of  one 
or  two  points." 

"  Did  Jacques — tell  you  to  ask  me  ? — really  ?  " 


YELLOWLEAF  83 

He  looked  at  her  closely.  "  He  did.  Does  that  sur- 
prise you?  " 

She  was  agitated  for  some  reason,  and  dropped  her 
little  gold  thimble,  which  rolled  across  the  polished 
floor  and  landed  in  the  very  middle  of  the  prayer  rug 
he  had  brought  back.  He  followed  it  and  picked  it 
up,  and  stood  for  a  moment  looking  at  the  tiny  thing 
that  stood  on  the  end  of  his  finger  like  a  fly  on  a  mush- 
room. It  was  a  gold  thimble  with  a  row  of  diamonds 
and  rubies  just  above  its  waist,  and  on  the  clear  space 
under  the  jewels  were  engraved  the  words : 

"  Sit  on  a  cushion  and  sew  a  fine  seam, 
And  you  shall  have  strawberries,  sugar  and  cream." 

And  then  there  was  a  date — a  date  nearly  eighteen 
years  back — and  it  was  the  date  of  her  marriage  to  his 
cousin  James  Dampierre,  and  it  had  been  his  wedding 
gift  to  her. 

ii 

Before  he  went  downstairs  they  stood  together  in 
the  window  looking  down  at  the  rain-distressed,  quiv- 
ering little  birch  tree. 

"Do  you  remember  the  day  we  planted  that?" 
Thorn  asked.  She  leaned  out  so  far  that  a  few  drops 
of  rain  fell  on  her  silky  head,  and  he  could  not  see  her 
face,  but  she  nodded,  and  he  heard  her  answer :  "  Yes 
— and  Jim  bringing  it  back  from  Devonshire  wrapped 
up  in  a  blue  check  apron  belonging  to  a  farmer's 
wife » 

There  was  a  long  pause  between  them,  broken  only 
by  the  patting  of  the  rain.  And  then  suddenly  she 
turned  and  faced  him. 


84  YELLOWLEAF 

"  Charles,"  she  said,  looking  up  into  his  face 
obviously  with  an  effort,  "  you  do  like  Jacques,  don't 
you?"  ' 

Luckily  for  him  she  went  on  quickly  before  he  had 
time  to  answer.  "  I  have  missed  you  so — we  all  have. 
It  wasn't  right — it  wasn't  natural,  your  not  being  here 
— oh,  you  will  try  to  like  him,  won't  you  ?  " 

The  blue  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  her  lower  lip 
quivered  in  a  childish  way  that  she  had  never  out- 
grown. 

He  frowned  a  little  and  then  said  slowly :  "  Why 
should  not  I  like  him  ?  "  He  dared  speak  as  cold  as 
he  felt,  because  he  knew  that  although  she  was  sensi- 
tive in  some  ways,  she  was  not  observant  in  others. 
Her  face  expressed  a  puzzled  distress  for  a  moment. 
"  I  thought — I  feared  you  didn't  like  him,"  she  mur- 
mured, clasping  and  unclasping  her  hands  on  her 
breast;  "  there  are  so  few  of  us  left,  and  Jim  was  so 
fond  of  you " 

He  nearly  asked  her  bitterly  whether  she  thought 
her  late  husband  would  have  expected  him  to  be  par- 
ticularly attached  to  her  present  one,  but  he  said  noth- 
ing, although  his  face  showed  in  its  quivering  whiteness 
an  intense,  almost  fierce  exasperation.  And  when  he 
did  speak,  it  was  to  say  in  the  grave,  kind  voice  to 
which  she  had  been  used  nearly  all  her  life :  "  I  will  do 
my  best,  Lily,  and  I  am  sure  Aghassy  will,  although  it 
is  naturally  an  uncomfortable  situation  for  us  both. 
Thus  far  I  only  know  that  if  you  wanted  Jimmy  to  go 
to  school,  Aghassy  would  agree  to  it." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  she  broke  in  eagerly.    "  It  was  me  who 


YELLOWLEAF  85 

would  not  let  him  go  to  school,  that  was  entirely  my 
doing!  I  know  it's  silly,  Charles,  but  I  couldn't,  I  just 
couldn't  let  Jimmy  go  away.  You  see,  he's  all  there's 
left  of  Jim,  and  I  must  have  him." 

She  broke  off  suddenly  with  a  furious  blush,  as  she 
realized  how  very  uncomplimentary  her  outburst  had 
been  to  Aghassy. 

Thorn  comforted  her  by  seeming  to  notice  nothing, 
and  a  few  minutes  later  walked  down  the  long  passage 
and  round  the  curve  to  his  own  room.  He  sat  down 
and,  leaning  his  head  on  his  hand,  gave  himself  up  to 
troubled  thought.  There  was  something  wrong  in  the 
house ;  he  felt  it,  but  could  not  make  up  his  mind  what 
it  was. 

in 

At  dinner  that  night  a  strong  suspicion  came  to 
him,  for  Jim,  who  had  been  painting  hard  all  day,  came 
in  limp  and  pale  and  morose,  drank  far  too  much  claret, 
and  became  aggressive  and  short-tempered ;  and  when 
he,  Charles  Thorn,  suggested  laughingly  that  the  boy's 
glass  had  been  filled  often  enough,  Jimmy  answered 
him  with  strong  irritation  and  impatience,  practically 
telling  his  old  tutor  to  mind  his  own  business.  But 
that  would  have  meant  little,  for  nervous  ill-temper 
was  to  some  extent  born  in  all  the  Dampierres,  and 
they  respected  it  in  each  other ;  but  it  surprised  Thorn 
to  see  that  Aghassy  took  his  stepson's  side,  by  no  means 
encouraging  him  in  his  rudeness  to  Thorn,  but  kindly 
and  lazily  assuring  Thorn  that  Arthur  Hesketh  had 
advised  this  particularly  good  claret  for  the  boy,  and 


86  YELLOWLEAF 

that  it  did  not  do  to  be  too  hard  on  youths  of  Jimmy's 
age.  Jim  flashed  a  grateful  glance  at  his  stepfather, 
and,  when  dinner  was  over,  Charles  Thorn  went  for  a 
walk  in  the  rain,  facing  the  unpleasant  knowledge  that 
his  difficulties  were  increased  by  the  amazing  fact  that 
Aghassy,  in  his  fondness  for  the  boy,  was  spoiling  him 
absurdly.  It  was  a  new,  clear  light  thrown  on  the 
man's  character,  and  Thorn  was  much  puzzled  by  it 
and,  when  he  mentioned  it  before  he  went  to  bed  to 
Lady  Mary,  the  old  lady  agreed  with  him. 

"  You're  right,"  she  said.  "  He  does.  He  spoils 
them  both.  Whoever  would  have  thought  that  he 
would  have  been  so  fond  of  them?  " 

Thorn  lay  awake  long  that  night,  trying  to  reduce 
his  inchoate  thoughts  to  order ;  trying  to  make  up  his 
mind  what  would  be  the  best  way  of  carrying  out  his 
duties  as  guardian.  He  was  unhappy  and  disturbed, 
and  finally  went  off  to  sleep  saying  to  himself  over  and 
over  again :  "  My  day  is  finished  before  night  has  come ; 
my  day  is  finished  before  night  has  come." 

IV 

The  next  few  days  Charles  Thorn  devoted  to  his 
investigations  into  the  character  and  educational 
methods  of  Sylvester  Martin.  The  old  schoolroom  at 
the  top  of  the  masked  staircase  was  still  in  use,  and  it 
was  certainly  in  Mr.  Martin's  favour  that  he  and  his 
pupil  were  herein  shut  up  in  scholastic  isolation  every 
day  from  half-past  nine  to  half-past  twelve.  At  half- 
past  twelve  they  either  rode  together  or  went  for  a 
walk,  returning  just  before  lunch  at  half-past  one. 


YELLOWLEAF  87 

Thorn  felt  a  little  shy  about  his  investigations,  but 
went  through  them  conscientiously,  encouraged  in  so 
doing  by  Aghassy,  who,  in  fact,  handed  the  whole 
matter  over  to  him.  "  For  the  present,  I  am  up  to  my 
eyes  in  work,"  Aghassy  explained,  "  and  I  shall  be  very 
grateful  to  you  for  having  an  eye  on  Martin,  and  say- 
ing exactly  what  you  think  of  his  methods." 

Charles  had  an  eye  on  Martin,  and  found  his 
methods  to  be  full  of  good  intentions  and  capabilities 
that,  no  doubt,  would  have  proved  very  fruitful  to 
young  Jim  had  they  been  left  uninterrupted  and  un- 
disturbed. This,  however,  they  were  not,  for,  although 
he  was  undoubtedly  very  busy,  Aghassy  apparently 
could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  the  little  staircase 
opposite  his  room,  and,  over  and  over  again,  Charles 
found  that  he  was  breaking  into  the  lesson,  rather  out 
of  what  seemed  to  be  sheer  inability  to  keep  away  from 
Jimmy.  On  two  occasions  he  even  found  Martin  alone, 
his  pupil  having  been  rapt  from  his  care  and  taken, 
once  to  Devonshire  for  a  day  or  two  at  the  sea,  and 
once  to  Ostend,  where  Aghassy  was  giving  a  concert. 
These  interruptions,  ominous  to  Thorn,  he  found  to  be 
accepted  quite  as  a  matter  of  courtesy  by  Martin.  The 
second  time  it  happened  Martin,  established  very  com- 
fortably in  an  armchair  by  the  open  window  near  which 
the  "  battle  of  the  staircase  "  had  taken  place  two  years 
and  a  half  ago,  explained  the  situation  with  some  skill. 

"  He  is  devoted  to  Jim,  you  know,"  the  "  Maggot  " 
declared,  puffing  at  his  cigarette,  which  was  not  above 
suspicion  of  being  scented,  "  and  often  takes  him  away 
for  a  little  change.  Mrs.  Aghassy  used  to  object,  but 


88  YELLOWLEAF 

I  think  she  sees  that  it's  good  for  the  kid;  he's  art 
awfully  delicate  kid,  you  know,  and  Aghassy's  idea  is 
that  he  ought  to  be  hardened  a  bit.  Fatherless  boys 
are  almost  always  rather  soft,  you  know." 

Thorn's  face  hardened ;  he  acquitted  the  cold-cream- 
coloured  young  man  of  any  wish  to  accuse  him  of  such 
softening,  or  even  to  prick  him  by  a  passing  word,  but 
he  knew  very  well  that,  under  his  care,  Jim  had  under- 
gone no  softening  process,  nor  coddling,  nor  spoiling. 
The  "  Maggot,"  he  saw,  was  not  at  all  bad  as  maggots 
go,  but  it  was  plain  to  be  seen  that  he  lived,  moved, 
and  had  his  being  under  the  powerful  shadow  of  his 
pupil's  stepfather. 

Charles  Thorn  drawled  as  he  answered,  his  long  legs 
stretched  tensely  out  across  the  floor,  his  eyes  fixed  on 
the  toes  of  his  beautifully  polished  chestnut-brown 
boots.  "  Aghassy  seems  very  much  inclined  to  spoil 
Jim,"  he  said  in  a  non-committal  voice. 

The  "  Maggot "  looked  up,  his  pale  grey  eyes  shin- 
ing with  sincerity  between  their  raw-looking  pink 
edges.  "  He  simply  adores  him,"  he  answered.  "  And 
Jim  does  him.  Isn't  it  a  pity,"  he  added,  after  a  pause, 
"  that  they  haven't  children  of  their  own?  " 

Thorn  gathered  his  long,  lank  limbs  together  and 
rose.  He  didn't  speak  for  a  minute.  Then  he  said 
shortly:  "  And  what  about  mathematics?  He  used  to 
be  rotten  at  them — Jim,  I  mean." 

The  two  men  talked  for  some  time  about  the  tastes 
and  powers  of  young  Dampierre,  and  parted  on  the 
friendliest  terms.  Charles  Thorn  went  back  to  his  own 
room  convinced  that,  whatever  his  faults  might  be,  or 


YELLOWLEAF  89 

his  lacks,  Sylvester  Martin  was  a  perfectly  conscien- 
tious and  well-meaning  young  man. 


Thorn  had  been  back  at  Yellowleaf  for  about  four 
weeks  before  he  could  even  begin  to  arrive  at  any  defi- 
nite conclusion  about  the  future.  He  was  perfectly 
ready  to  devote  his  life  to  young  Jim,  but  things  were 
in  such  a  state  that  he  felt  like  a  well-meaning  fifth 
wheel.  The  cart  ran  so  smoothly  and  rigidly  without 
him  that  he  felt  unnecessary  and  cumbrous  in  the  house- 
hold. Two  years  is  a  very  long  time  in  the  life  of  a 
child,  and  he  told  himself  bitterly  that,  by  throwing  up 
the  sponge  and  running  away  as  he  had  done,  he  de- 
served being  supplanted,  as  he  undoubtedly  had  been. 
His  long,  sad  face  grew  more  weary-looking,  more 
bitter,  as  the  gay  summer  days  passed  by,  and  he  found 
himself  unhappy,  in  the  inchoate  misery  of  things  to 
an  almost  unbearable  degree. 

Then  Lady  Mary  rose — metaphorically — and  smote 
him  hip  and  thigh,  and  told  him  that  he  was  a  weak- 
ling, and  unworthy  of  the  trust  shown  him  by  Lord 
Hainault.  "  Can't  you  see,"  the  old  lady  exclaimed, 
"  that  this  slug,  this  maggot,  is  no  good  for  a  boy  like 
Jim?" 

Thorn  weighed  his  words  well  before  he  answered. 
"  He  is  a  very  well-educated  man,  and  seems  to  know 
his  job,  and  I  rather  like  him." 

Lady  Mary  stabbed  at  her  tapestry  with  the  needle 
of  exasperation,  and  in  her  lucent  old  eyes  was  a  light 
of  battle. 


90  YELLOWLEAF 

"  Listen  to  me,  Charles  Thorn,"  she  said.  "  Either 
you  have  become  a  perfect  idiot  through  maundering 
about  in  the  Tropics — "  ("  Persia  and  Japan  are  not  in 
the  Tropics,"  he  interposed  mildly) — "  or  you  don't 
care  a  tent-pegger's  curse  any  more  for  any  of  us. 
Can't  you  see  that  Jim  has  changed  very  much  of  late, 
and  not  for  the  better  ?  Why,  even  Jacques  sees  that, 
and  he's  idiotically  fond  of  him." 

"What's  the  matter  with  Jim?"  Thorn  asked 
quietly. 

Lady  Mary  tapped  angrily  on  the  arm  of  her  chair 
with  her  thimble-crowned  middle  finger.  "  Don't  be 
a  fool,  Charles,"  she  said  shortly.  "  The  boy  hasn't 
murdered  anybody,  of  course,  nor  robbed  a  bank,  nor 
seduced  a  virgin " 

Charles  Thorn  smiled,  new  creases  showing  above 
his  eyes  and  mouth.  "  Elizabethan  old  lady !  "  he 
murmured. 

Lady  Mary  laughed,  too.  "  Sorry  if  I  shock  you, 
but  you  know  what  I  mean.  I  cannot  explain — I  am 
most  dreadfully  grieved  about  it;  no  boy  in  this  world 
ever  had  better  care  and  more  conscientious  looking 
after,  and  yet — well,  I  don't  know;  he's  changed, 
changed  very  much,  and  if  you  cannot  see  it,  Charles 
Thorn,  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself." 

"I  haven't  said  I  can't  see  it,  Aunt  Mary,"  he  re- 
marked quietly.  "  I  have  been  home  now  for  over  two 
months,  and  I  have  never  been  so  puzzled  in  my  life. 
There  is  a  change  in  Jim,  and  it's  more  than  the  change 
naturally  contingent  on  his  age.  I  can't  get  near  him 
personally;  but  that's  my  own  fault  for  having  gone 


YELLOWLEAF  91 

away,  and  I  deserve  it,  and  I'm  not  grumbling.  As  far 
as  I  can  see,  Martin  is  doing  his  best,  and  is  really  inter- 
ested in  the  boy ;  and  as  to  poor  Aghassy,  his  devotion 
to  him  is  almost  touching." 

"  '  Poor  Aghassy  ' !  "  broke  in  Lady  Mary  softly. 
"  The  world  is  coming  to  an  end  when  you  pity 
Jacques." 

The  window  was  open,  and  in  the  little  courtyard 
Bruno,  in  a  grey  alpaca  coat  and  an  all-over  green  baize 
apron,  was  doing  a  little  gardening.  He  had  planted 
round  the  roots  of  the  white  birch  a  cluster  of  enormous 
Italian  petunias  of  all  colours,  and  these  were  the  joy 
of  his  life;  their  dark  beauty,  frail  and  fairy-like,  re- 
sponsive to  every  breath  of  air,  had  evoked  a  passion 
of  tenderness  in  his  breast. 

From  where  he  sat  Charles  Thorn  could  see  Bruno 
as  he  pottered  about,  picking  gingerly  at  the  soil,  and 
there  was  something  chivalric  in  his  attitude. 

"  What  are  you  looking  at?  "  the  old  lady  asked, 
for  the  window  was  at  the  far  side  of  the  fireplace. 

"  Bruno.  He  is  making  love  to  those  petunias  of 
yours." 

They  went  on  with  their  talk,  and  finally  Thorn 
cleared  his  mind  with  an  odd  declaration.  "  It  isn't 
so  much  what  I  think  about  Jim  and  everything,  as 
what  I  feel,"  he  said  very  slowly,  leaning  his  big,  bony 
chin  on  his  hands.  "  And  what  I  feel  is  so  simple  that 
I  cannot  explain  it  in  words.  That  sounds  mad,  but  it 
isn't ;  I  feel  miserable,  and  something  like  fear,  and  yet 
I  can  see  no  earthly  reason  for  such  fear." 

Lady  Mary  nodded.     "  You  are  imaginative,  my 


92  YELLOWLEAF 

dear  boy,"  she  said,  "  and  that  Italian  grandmother  of 
yours  is  responsible  for  a  lot  of  perfectly  unnecessary 
suffering  on  your  part ;  but  in  this  case  my  nerves  jump 
with  yours,  my  soul  is  frightened,  too.  Martin  is  all 
right,  as  you  say,  but — "  she  stuck  her  needle  into  her 
canvas  and  clasped  her  small  old  hands  over  her  work — 
"  he  must  go." 

Bruno  was  singing  softly  to  himself  in  a  pure 
tenuous,  tenor  voice,  and  for  a  moment  the  two  people 
in  the  drawing-room  listened. 

Then  Thorn  said:  "  Why?  " 

"  He  is  not  strong  enough,  that  is  why.  Jim  needs 
not  so  much  someone  to  teach  him  history  and  mathe- 
matics and  Greek — though  Greek,  I  believe,  is  the  best 
of  all "  The  old  lady  pointed  to  the  little  book- 
case at  her  side  where  stood,  simply  and  richly  bound, 
as  befits  their  dignity,  Gilbert  Murray's  masterly  trans- 
lations of  the  Greek  tragedies.  It  was  one  of  the  in- 
congruities of  his  old  aunt's  character  that  always 
delighted  Thorn,  her  almost  sacred  love  of  these  im- 
mutable, marvellous  works. 

His  grim  face  softened  a  little  as  his  eyes  followed 
hers  to  the  row  of  dark  green  books,  but  he  did  not 
speak,  and  she  went  on :  "  More  than  technical  instruc- 
tion Jim  needs  stiffening  by  some  strong,  stark  nature." 

"  Stark !  No,  poor  little  Martin  can  never  be  called 
stark." 

"  Charles !  "  Lady  Mary  leaned  forward  over  her 
bastion  of  embroidery,  and  spoke  with  deep  earnest- 
ness. "  It  is  no  good,  this  fellow  won't  do ;  and  the 
man  who  must  bring  up  Jim  must  be  able  to  withstand 


YELLOWLEAF  93 

Jacques,  and  fight  against  his  ridiculous  softness  for 
the  boy,  to  combat  his  spoiling,  for  which  one  cannot 
help  loving  the  man  even  though  one  disapproves  of 
it — and  the  only  man  in  the  world  who  can  do  this 
is  you." 

Charles  Thorn,  who  had  never  settled  down  as  a 
permanent  inmate  of  Yellowleaf ,  and  who,  for  the  last 
fortnight,  had  been  living  in  delightful  rooms  in  Bruton 
Street,  flinched  at  this  onslaught. 

"  That  is  the  one  thing  I  can't  do,"  he  said.  "  My 
days  of  tutoring  Jim  are  over." 

As  he  spoke,  the  hall-door  opened  and  Jim  and 
Aghassy  came  in.  The  boy  had  slipped  his  arm 
through  his  stepfather's,  and  they  were  both  shouting 
with  laughter  in  a  way  delightful  to  behold. 

"  Here's  this  villain,"  Aghassy  burst  out,  "  insisting 
on  a  spree  to-night.  He  wants  to  go  to  the  Palace  to 
see  an  American  girl  who  thinks  she  sings,  but  who 
really  in  a  diseuse " 

On  their  heels,  deprecating  and  pink-eyed,  came 
Sylvester  Martin,  full  of  woe  and  reminders  of  belated 
work.  Jim  had  been  slack,  very  slack,  he  said,  of  late. 
The  arrears  to  be  made  up  were  terrifving.  He  ^eally 
thought — 

As  he  spoke  there  came  in  through  the  window  the 
sound  of  Bruno's  beautiful  old  voice: 

Quant'  e  belle  giovinezza 
Che  si  f  ugge  tuttavia ; 
Chi  vuol'  esser  lieto,  sia; 
Di  doman'  non  c'  e  certezza." 


94  YELLOWLEAF 

Aghassy's  queer  face  softened  and  changed  as  he 
listened,  and  then,  with  one  of  his  very  rare  chuckles 
of  amusement,  he  called  the  old  man  to  the  window. 

Bruno's  white  head  framed  in  the  square  of  sun- 
shine made  a  pleasant  and  arresting  picture,  and  in 
order  to  see  it  Lady  Mary  wheeled  her  chair  a  few 
inches  forward. 

"It's  a  beautiful  song,  Bruno,"  Aghassy  said 
gently. 

Bruno  smiled,  his  wonderful  teeth  glinting. 
"  Si  Signore,"  he  answered  gaily,  "  that  was  written  in 
the  fifteenth  century  in  my  beautiful  Florence  by 
Lorenzo  the  Magnificent." 

Jimmy,  his  thin,  sharp-chinned  face  full  of  interest, 
asked  the  old  man  what  the  words  meant,  and  Bruno, 
with  the  magnificent  disregard  of  the  social  scale, 
which,  combined  with  perfect  courtesy,  is  characteristic 
of  his  nation,  translated  his  song. 

"How  beautiful  is  youth  and  how  fleeting  1 
Who  wishes  to  be  happy,  let  him  be. 
There  is  nothing  certain  about  to-morrow." 


CHAPTER  VIII 


THORN  was  a  man  whose  mind  moved  slowly;  he 
was  a  deliberate  thinker  by  nature,  and  his  life  had  not 
been  such  as  to  hasten  his  decisions.  For  over  a  week 
he  and  Lady  Mary  struggled  over  the  question  of 
Martin  and  Jimmy,  and  several  things  happened  dur- 
ing that  week  to  buttress  up  the  old  lady's  convictions 
and  decisions,  and  to  beat  down  the  still  unwilling 
Thorn  in  his  determination  not  to  live  at  Yellowleaf. 

It  had  been  a  difficult  matter  for  him  to  leave  the 
old  house  where  most  of  his  quiet  life  had  been  spent, 
and  he  could  not  have  done  it,  probably,  had  he  not  been 
impelled  by  his  great  anger  with  Aghassy;  and  even 
then  he  had  been  forced  to  fly  to  the  ends  of  the  earth. 
He  loved  every  inch  of  the  place  and  it  had  been  a 
terrible  wrench  to  him  to  settle  himself  elsewhere;  but 
his  rooms  in  Bruton  Street  were  delightful:  ample, 
low-ceilinged,  Queen  Anne  rooms,  with  pleasant  brown 
panellings  and  a  delicately  spindled  staircase  that  had 
already  become  dear  to  him.  His  books  he  had  carried 
surreptitiously  away  from  Yellowleaf  in  his  pockets, 
and  in  a  couple  of  old  much-travelled  leather  port- 
manteaus, and  they  were  now  comfortably  installed  in 
his  old-new  quarters.  He  was  not  a  man  to  look  for 
much  happiness,  but  peace  seemed  to  hover  over  him 
in  Bruton  Street,  and  the  quiet  scholarly  spirit  of  his 
rooms,  which  before  him  had  been  inhabited  for  over 

95 


96  YELLOWLEAF 

half  a  century  by  a  learned  old  professor  who  had 
spent  his  whole  life  in  writing  a  treatise  on  Seaweeds, 
was  like  a  balm  to  his  harassed,  uneasy  mind ;  and  now 
Lady  Mary  not  only  wished  him  to  give  all  that  up,  but 
insisted  that  he  must  do  so,  and  made  him  miserable. 

"  I  should  think  you  could  see,"  he  cried  out  once, 
in  supreme  exasperation,  "  that  I  cannot  come  and  live 
in  the  house  of  a  man  I  hate." 

But  the  old  lady  laughed  in  his  face.  "  My  poor 
Charles,"  she  said,  "  you  really  are  an  idiot.  In  the 
first  place  you  have  not  the  slightest  reason  for  hating 
Jacques;  and  in  the  second  place  the  house  is  not  his, 
nor  his  wife's.  Yellowleaf  is  mine,  my  dear,  and  when 
I  die,  which  I  have  no  intention  of  doing  for  another 
half -century,  it  will  be  Jimmy's.  And  you  need  not 
glower  at  me,  and  you  need  not  make  ridiculous  ex- 
cuses. Your  dislike  to  poor  Jacques,  as  you  yourself 
called  him  the  other  day,  is  simply  prejudice,  and  a 
thoroughly  British  inability  to  change  your  mind.  You 
did  not  like  him  when  Lily  married  him,  and  you  think 
it  would  be  a  weakness  to  like  him  now." 

Charles  Thorn  glared  at  her.  "  Do  you  like  him  ?  " 
he  asked  thunderously. 

And  then  Lady  Mary  did  that  most  disarming 
thing — admitted,  in  the  moment  of  triumph,  her  own 
secret  feeling.  "  I  don't  know,"  she  said.  "  And  there 
you  have  the  truth.  Sometimes  I  do  like  him,  and 
sometimes  I  don't;  but  I  am  fair-minded  enough  to 
admit  that  if  I  don't  I  have  no  reason  for  it."  And  so 
forth,  and  so  forth,  and  so  forth — the  eternal  subject 
went  on,  discussed  between  these  two  evenly  matched 


YELLOWLEAF  97 

adversaries,  early  in  the  morning,  in  the  unsympathetic 
hours  of  the  early  afternoon,  and  at  night,  when  most 
people's  judgments  are  mellower  and  kindlier.  And 
still  they  arrived  at  no  conclusion.  Meantime  Jim 
walked  over  the  prostrate  form — metaphorically  speak- 
ing— of  the  luckless  "  maggot,"  and  did  exactly  as  he 
liked.  Somehow  or  other  Thorn's  being  there  seemed 
to  have  upset  the  academic  tenor  of  the  ways  of  the 
youth  and  his  tutor,  and  the  red  rag  of  rebellion  was 
planted,  so  to  speak,  over  the  schoolroom.  The  lessons 
were  oftener  interrupted;  the  wretched  Martin  wore 
a  harassed  look,  and  admitted,  when  hard  pressed  by 
the  ruthless,  golden-tongued  Lady  Mary,  that  Jim  had 
got  beyond  him.  "  I  can't  understand  him,"  the  young 
Sylvester  wailed,  clasping  his  hands,  the  ends  of  which 
were  gnawed  and  spongy-looking,  with  almost  invisible 
nails.  "  I'm  afraid  he's  got  beyond  me." 

On  this  unwary  admission  of  weakness  Lady  Mary 
pounced. 

"  Yes,  no  doubt,"  she  said,  her  voice  full  of  honied 
sympathy.  "  All  the  Dampierres  go  through  a  terribly 
fierce,  unmanageable  period  between  the  ages  of  six- 
teen and  twenty.  Poor  Mr.  Martin!  I'm  afraid  you 
will  find  Jim  much  worse  in  a  year's  time,"  she  added 
pleasantly. 

Mr.  Martin  attacked  one  of  his  finger-nails  and  tore 
at  it  voraciously.  He  was  only  nine-and-twenty  him- 
self, and  when  the  duplicitous  Lady  Mary  inquired, 
in  a  matchless  voice  of  nun-like  sympathy,  what  his 
other  pupils  had  been  like,  he  melted  suddenly  in  a 
shapeless,  unconfined  way,  like  butter  before  a  fire,  and 
7 


98  YELLOWLEAF 

confessed  that  Paul  Bottomleigh  had  been  a  gentle 
youth,  tamed  by  adenoids  and  a  love  for  colouring 
photographs;  and  that  his  other  pupil,  the  son  of  Sir 
Roderick  Whale,  had  been  one  of  those  anxious  and 
wolfish  scholars  whose  progress  nothing  on  earth  could 
stop. 

"  He  mopped  it  up — learning,"  he  said,  "  did  that 
boy,  he  was  a  sponge,  and  he  sopped  up  knowledge 
through  the  very  covers  of  the  books." 

When  it  is  said  that  this  remark  was  Mr.  Martin's 
sole  contribution  to  the  joy  of  nations  during  over  two 
years'  residence  at  Yellowleaf ,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to 
say  any  more  about  him.  He  had  confessed  his  weak- 
ness, and  Lady  Mary  promptly  bestowed  the  knowl- 
edge of  it  on  Aghassy.  Then  she  added,  "  So,  my 
dear  Jacques,  the  sooner  Charles  Thorn  is  installed  in 
his  own  rooms  and  takes  the  boy  in  hand,  the  better." 

Aghassy  sat  forward  in  the  little  cane  chair,  his 
head  thrust  towards  the  old  lady  in  a  way  that  made 
her  say  afterwards  that  "  he  looked  as  if  he  were  going 
to  toss  her."  He  was  strongly  displeased,  but,  as  was 
his  wont,  his  words  were  mild,  his  protest  gentle,  and, 
as  she  could  not  but  admit,  very  logical. 

Thorn  had  been  away  a  long  time,  he  said,  and  he 
was,  after  all,  only  an  amateur  at  the  game  of  teaching, 
though,  no  doubt,  a  very  clever  amateur.  Jim  had 
passed  his  test  exams  remarkably  well,  and  Martin, 
though  he  was  doubtless  a  not  particularly  forceful 
personality,  not  one  whom  he,  Aghassy,  would  like  to 
leave  the  boy  to  entirely,  yet  he  had  certainly  done  his 
work  well.  He  was  a  gentleman;  he  was  tactful,  un- 


YELLOWLEAF  99 

oppressive  in  the  household,  and — what  Aghassy  con- 
fessed was  to  him  a  point  of  great  importance — he  was 
willing  to  be  guided  by  the  wishes  and  tastes  of  the 
boy's  natural  guardians. 

This  talk  between  the  old  lady  and  Aghassy  took 
place  in  the  morning,  in  the  garden.  It  was  a  lovely 
green  and  white  English  day,  and  as  they  talked  they 
could  see  young  Jim  and  the  bone  of  contention  sitting 
at  a  small  rustic  table  on  comfortable  cane  chairs,  work- 
ing with  apparent  interest  over  notebooks  and  big  open 
volumes, 

"  Now  if  I,  for  instance,"  Aghassy  resumed  after  a 
pause,  "  found  that  Jim  looked  tired  and  needed  a  rest 
or  change,  I  should  only  have  to  say  to  Martin,  '  Shut 
your  books  and  leave  the  boy  with  me  for  a  while,'  and 
he  would  do  so  without  protesting,  or  even  without 
what  is  even  more  exasperating — a  deaf  protest." 

"  Mute,  you  mean,"  Lady  Mary  said  gently. 

He  looked  up  sharply,  as  he  always  did  when  any- 
one caught  him  out  in  a  foreign  expression.  "  I  was 
thinking  in  French,"  he  said  carelessly,  and  she  nodded, 
accepting  his  elucidation  but,  at  the  same  time,  unre- 
generately  pleased  at  her  own  pin-prick. 

Lily  joined  them  just  then  and  no  more  was  said, 
for  Aghassy  always  showed  a  marked  aversion  from 
any  kind  of  discussion  before  his  wife.  Lady  Mary 
often  wondered  whether,  when  he  and  his  wife  were 
alone  together,  her  absolute  passivity  was  ever  broken. 

But  though  the  old  lady  could  say  no  more  just 
then,  it  never  occurred  to  her  to  give  up  her  plan.  She 
had  made  up  her  mind  that  it  would  be  best  for  Jim  to 


ioo  YELLOWLEAF 

have  Charles  Thorn  back  in  the  house,  and  there  was 
never  in  her  own  mind  a  moment's  doubt  as  to  her  wis- 
dom in  the  matter.  There  were  various  ways  in  which 
she  might  accomplish  her  object,  but  she  was  rather  at 
a  loss  with  Aghassy,  for  his  oddities  were  such  that  he 
seemed  peculiarly  unbribable.  However,  after  much 
thought  over  a  week-end,  during  which  Thorn  was  at 
Oving-Wellow  looking  into  some  administrative  mat- 
ters, the  old  lady,  after  a  few  words  with  Bruno,  made 
a  sudden  attack  on  Aghassy,  and  startled  him  by  it  to 
within  an  inch  of  his  life. 

It  was  in  her  bedroom  whither  she  had  sent  for  him 
to  come — the  threshold  of  which  he  had  passed  only 
once  before  in  his  life.  It  was  late  at  night,  and  a 
violent  summer  storm  was  beating  at  the  windows  and 
moaning  and  growling  round  the  old  house  in  a  way 
suggestive  of  prowling  wild  beasts,  and  broomstick- 
riding  witches.  Lady  Mary  sat  up  in  her  bed,  which 
was  a  masterpiece  of  medieval  Italy,  carved  and  gilded 
in  a  lavish  fashion,  and  over  which  wicked  little  Cupids 
clambered,  bearing  expensive-looking  garlands. 

She  wore  a  tomato-coloured  velvet  jacket  trimmed 
with  broad  white  fur,  like  a  lady  in  an  old  Dutch  pic- 
ture, and  her  beautiful  white  hair  was  covered  by  no 
cap,  but  hung  in  flat,  glossy  braids  over  her  shoulders. 

Aghassy  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  his  arms 
folded,  looking  down  at  her  with  a  rather  lowering 
though  perfectly  courteous  air. 

"  You  are  wondering  why  I  sent  for  you,"  she 
began  briskly. 

Very  un-English  was  his  little  bow  and  his  answer, 


YELLOWLEAF  101 

"  I  am  always  at  your  feet."  His  voice  changed  as  he 
spoke,  as  if  he  remembered  too  late  that  this  phrase 
was  Latin,  not  Anglo-Saxon ;  but  for  once  she  seemed 
not  to  notice  the  slip. 

"  Jacques,"  she  said  clearly,  "  I  wonder  if  you  know 
what  a  very  rich  woman  I  am  ?  " 

He  said  mildly,  "  Yes,  I  suppose  you  must  be." 

"  Since  my  brother  died,  my  income  has  more  than 
trebled.  You  heard  his  will  read,  and  you  know  that 
all  this  money  of  his  which  he  left  me — an  arrange- 
ment made  many  years  before  any  of  us  knew  you — 
is  to  go  on  my  death  to  Jim.  If  I  die  before  Jim  is  of 
age  my  nephew,  Charles  Thorn,  is  to  be  sole  trustee 
for  this  fortune.  If  I  live  till  after  Jim  is  twenty-one, 
Hainault's  money,  together  with  most  of  mine,  goes 
unconditionally  to  Jim." 

Aghassy  nodded  politely,  but  only  with  the  interest 
of  a  man  listening  to  something  he  already  knows. 

"  Part  of  my  money  I  am  leaving  to  Lily,  but,  as 
she  is  already  well  provided  for  by  my  son,  her  first 
husband,  as  well  as  by  you,  whose  devotion  to  her,  my 
dear  Jacques,  makes  me  very  happy,  I  am  leaving 
Picotee  three  thousand  a  year  with  her  mother  as 
guardian  until  she  is  of  age." 

There  was  a  pause,  and  then  Aghassy  said  quietly : 
"  It  is  very  kind  of  you,  dear  Lady  Mary,  to  tell  me 
these  things;  but  will  you  forgive  me  for  reminding 
you  that  it  is  after  twelve,  and  that  I  have  a  great  deal 
of  work  to  get  through  to-morrow?  " 

The  old  lady  made  an  apologetic  gesture  with  her 
hands,  on  which  her  rings  still  sparkled,  although  she 
was  in  bed. 


102  YELLOWLEAF 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  said.  "  I  am  a  garrulous, 
tiresome  old  woman,  but  I  have  a  reason  for  saying 
what  I  have  said,  and  here  is  what  I  sent  for  you  about. 
I  am  not  satisfied  with  your  very  nice  Mr.  Martin  as 
tutor  for  my  grandson.  I  like  Mr.  Martin,  and  I  trust 
him;  but  he  is  incapable  of  coping  with  the  difficult 
and  intricate  Dampierre  temper  and  mind.  Charles 
Thorn  has  come  back  from  the  ends  of  the  earth  on 
purpose  to  take  up  his  duties  as  guardian — joint 
guardian — with  you.  He  is  very  averse  from  giving 
up  his  independence  and  coming  here  to  devote  him- 
self to  the  dull  work  of  tutoring,  but  I  know  him  well, 
and  I  know  that  out  of  his  strong  sense  of  duty  he  will 

do  it,  if  you  agree .    Wait  a  minute,"  she  added, 

as  Aghassy  was  about  to  speak;  "I  know  that  you 
don't  particularly  like  Charles,  and  that  the  *  mag — 
I  mean  Mr.  Martin — is  a  friend  of  yours,  but  after  all, 
you  know  that  Charles  is  a  very  finely  educated,  very 
cultivated  man  of  the  highest  character  and  the  strong- 
est family  feeling,  so  you  should  put  aside  in  this  mat- 
ter of  your  wife's  son  your  personal  prejudices." 

She  paused,  and  this  time  Aghassy  didn't  attempt 
to  interrupt  her.  He  stood  leaning  on  the  foot  of  the 
bed,  his  brows  bent,  his  queer  eyes  half -closed,  as  he 
listened.  A  violent  gust  of  wind  rattled  on  the  win- 
dows, and,  at  the  open  one,  blew  a  long,  filmy  lace 
curtain  straight  out  into  the  room.  For  a  moment  Lady 
Mary  watched  them  from  between  her  wonderful  long 
lashes,  until  they  had  fluttered  back  to  their  place.  Then 
she  said :  "  You  and  I  are  friends  now,  Jacques,  so  I 
dare  try  and  bribe  you.  If  you  will  agree  without  any 


YELLOWLEAF  103 

further  argument  to  have  Charles  Thorn  come  back 
and  live  here  and  educate  Jim,  I  will  add  from  this 
day  two  thousand  a  year  to  your  income." 

With  that  sense  of  the  dramatic  native  to  clocks  of 
all  kinds,  a  little  silver  time-piece  over  the  fireplace 
chimed  the  three-quarters  as  she  finished  speaking. 
The  storm  outside  was  noisy;  the  storm  inside  was 
passing  in  absolute  silence;  but  the  air  within  was 
charged  with  electricity,  and  the  strong,  fearless  old 
woman  dared  not  move  her  hands  on  her  brocaded 
bedspread  lest  they  might  tremble.  When  at  last 
Aghassy  spoke,  his  voice  was  husky  and  his  manner 
perfectly  deferential. 

"  No,"  he  said  quietly.  "  I  do  not  care  very  much 
for  money,  and  I  have  plenty  of  my  own;  but,  even  if 
I  had  not,  I  should  not  consent  to  have  Mr.  Charles 
Thorn  living  in — my  wife's  house." 

Then  he  rose  to  his  full  height  and  unfolded  his 
arms. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  he  added  gently,  "  to  disappoint  you, 
and  I  am  sorry  you  don't  like  my  poor  Sylvester  better ; 
I  will  try  to  do  all  I  can  to  strengthen  him,  and  I  must 
make  more  time  for  myself  to  devote  to  Jimmy.  You 
were  right  in  thinking  that  he  needs  a  strong  hand, 
and  I,  Lady  Mary,  am  not  a  weak  man." 

The  old  lady  was  bitterly  disappointed,  and  she  was 
also  ashamed,  for  she  had  made  sure  that  the  man 
would  fall  to  her  enormous  bribe,  and  it  added  to  her 
displeasure  and  resentment  to  feel  that  she  had  mis- 
judged him  and  that  he  was  finer  and  more  conscien- 
tious than  she  had  believed.  Looking  up  at  him  as  he 


io4  YELLOWLEAF 

came  towards  her  and  bent  his  smooth,  queer-shaped 
head  over  her  hand,  she  felt  that  he  was  not  indeed 
a  weak  man.  His  high,  burly  shoulders  seemed  to  blot 
out  the  light  as  he  bent  over  her,  and  his  resemblance 
to  some  strong,  mighty-muscled,  sleek-furred,  wild  ani- 
mal struck  her  afresh.  When  he  had  gone  she  turned 
out  her  light  and  lay  rocked  in  the  rush  of  the  music 
of  the  storm,  and  the  sense  of  shame  died  away  in  her 
relief  at  his  nobility.  If  he  had  accepted  her  bribe,  it 
would,  she  knew,  have  been  good  for  Jimmy,  but  he 
had  refused  her  bribe,  and  she  felt  that  that,  too,  was 
good  for  the  boy.  So  this  brave,  militant  old  woman 
went  to  sleep  unable  to  make  up  her  mind  whether  she 
was  to  be  glad  or  sorry  at  the  way  her  plan  had  fallen 
through. 

Meantime,  in  the  silence  of  the  night,  footsteps 
might  have  been  heard  coming  towards  the  house.  The 
limping  messenger  was  on  his  way  to  Yellowleaf. 

ii 

The  next  day  being  Sunday,  Lily  and  the  children 
went  to  church.  Martin  disappeared  for  the  day ;  and 
after  lunch,  the  sun  having  come  out  and  the  rain 
ceased,  though  the  wind  still  blew  hard,  Aghassy  and 
Jim  went  out  for  a  long  spin  in  the  car,  which  they 
made  a  point  of  doing  on  Sunday  afternoons,  and  Lily 
betook  herself  for  a  visit  to  a  bed-ridden  old  governess 
of  hers  in  Golder's  Green.  Lady  Mary,  left  alone  in 
the  house,  bade  Bruno  wheel  her  out  into  the  glass  gal- 
lery, and  sat  there  in  the  sun,  wrapped  in  a  magnificent 
old  tail-less  ermine  cape  that  she  had  had  for  over 


YELLOWLEAF  105 

twenty  years.  She  was  very  depressed,  which  was  a 
most  unusual  thing  for  her,  and,  her  nature  being  what 
it  was,  her  depression  was  abysmal.  Her  sky  was 
black,  and  as  was  her  way,  she  fed  her  gloom  with 
reading.  On  her  lap  lay  one  of  her  green  books — 
"  Iphigenia  in  Tauris,"  that  most  magnificent  and  un- 
relieved of  tragedies. 

"  Bruno,"  she  said  to  the  old  man,  "  there  is  an  old 
woman  in  this  play  who  says  she  felt  like  a  winter- 
frozen  bee,  and  that's  what  I  feel  like  to-day." 

"  Eccellenza,"  Bruno  replied,  "  that  old  lady  could 
not  have  felt  like  a  winter-frozen  bee  in  July."  Then 
his  face  broke  into  a  laugh  and  he  added :  "  With 
respect  speaking,  unless  it  was  in  England !  "  He 
dearly  hoved  a  gibe  at  the  English  climate,  and  Lady 
Mary,  who,  although  she  had  hardly  been  out  of  Yel- 
lowleaf  for  fifteen  years,  had  in  her  younger  days,  seen 
pretty  well  every  country  in  the  world,  fully  sympa- 
thized with  him  in  his  animadversions  against  the 
sloppy  London  winter,  and  the  chilly  or  wet  London 
summer.  For  a  few  minutes  she  sat  there  studying 
the  old  man's  profile  as  he  gazed  out  on  to  the  shadow- 
swept  lawn ;  then  she  said :  "  Bruno,  I  am  not  happy 
about  Signorino  Jim." 

"  Neither  am  I,"  was  the  answer,  and  then,  because 
he  knew  his  mistress  wanted  his  opinion,  the  old  ser- 
vant gave  it  to  her. 

"  The  Signorino  ought  to  be  at  school,  he  ought  to 
be  with  other  boys;  also  he  ought  to  be  under  disci- 
pline—discipline here  he  has  none." 

Lady  Mary  nodded.  "  Exactly.  What  do  you 
think  of  Mr.  Martin?" 


106  YELLOWLEAF 

"  Mr.  Martin  does  not  count,  Your  Excellency.  It's 
only  Mr.  Aghassy  who  counts." 

Lady  Mary  interrupted  with  a  purpose.  "  And 
Mrs.  Aghassy,"  she  said. 

The  old  man  turned,  his  lambent  eyes  full  of  sun- 
shine, a  beautiful,  sincere  smile  exposing  his  teeth. 
"  Mr.  Aghassy,  Eccellenza,"  he  insisted  mildly. 

Lady  Mary  reflected  for  a  moment,  not  because  she 
felt  she  was  in  any  way  lowering  her  dignity  by  taking 
counsel  with  this  old  servant,  because  he  was  friend  as 
much  as  servant,  and  his  dignity  in  its  degree  was  as 
great  as  her  own ;  but  because  she  wished  to  order  her 
own  mind;  to  take  from  it  the  most  important  idea  it 
held,  and  offer  it  to  the  old  man's  consideration. 

"  Mr.  Aghassy  consented  to  let  Mr.  Jim  go  to 
school  if  Mrs.  Agha.ssy  wished  it,"  she  said  quietly. 
"  It  was  Mrs.  Aghassy  who  couldn't  part  with  him." 
Bruno  did  not  answer,  so  she  was  forced  to  go  on. 
"  Mr.  Aghassy  is  very  fond  of  the  Signorino,  Bruno. 
I  am  sure  he  would  do  anything  he  believed  to  be  good 
for  him." 

Bruno  looked  at  her,  his  brown  face  full  of  trouble. 
He  remembered  the  day  when  he  had  stood  by  her 
chair  in  her  Corner,  looking  at  her  as  he  thought  she 
slept,  hating  himself  for  being  the  bearer  of  bad  tid- 
ings. Now  again  he  was  the  bearer  of  bad  tidings. 

"  Eccellenza,"  he  said,  with  a  little  break  in  his 
voice,  "  the  Signorina  Lili  is  an  angel — a  beautiful 
angel  of  heaven;  but,"  he  added  in  Italian,  "  you  must 
not  believe  her  nowadays.  The  Signorina  Lili  is  not 
telling  the  truth  of  late." 


YELLOWLEAF  107 

Lady  Mary  wasted  no  time  in  expostulations  that 
she  knew  he  could  sweep  away  with  a  word.  Instead, 
she  asked  him  simply  what  he  meant.  "  Go  on,"  she 
said.  "  Tell  me."  And  so  Bruno  told  her. 

It  appeared  that  for  many  months  past  he  had  seen 
that  Mrs.  Aghassy  was  unhappy ;  worse — that  she  was 
frightened  about  something.  "  You  would  not  see 
that,  Eccellenza,  because  the  Signorina  Lili  is  afraid 
of  your  knowing,  but  she's  not  afraid  of  me,  she  has 
forgotten  me;  like  all  English  people  she  forgets  that 
servants  have  eyes  and  ears " 

"  And  tongues,"  broke  in  Lady  Mary  briskly. 
"Now  there's  Drake,  for  instance;  if  Drake  didn't 
tremble  before  me,  she  would  constantly  say  things — 
against  you — for  instance." 

Bruno  shrugged  his  shoulders  slightly  and  thrust 
Drake  aside,  with  a  gesture,  into  the  place  of  those  who 
don't  count. 

"  Shall  I  tell  Your  Excellency  what  I  mean?  "  he 
went  on  mildly;  and,  on  Lady  Mary's  nod,  he  did  so. 
"  Mr.  Aghassy  frightens  the  Signorina  Lili ;  I  think 
she's  sorry  she  married  him.  She  sits  and  thinks,  and 
thinks,  of  my  Captain.  Mr.  Jim  is  no  longer  the  way 
he  used  to  be  with  her.  He  thinks  that  she  makes  a 
fuss,  that  she  stops  his  pleasure,  that  she  treats  him  like 
a  child;  and  it's  Mr.  Aghassy  who  teaches  him  this." 

A  deep  flush  rose  over  Lady  Mary's  face,  and  she 
threw  her  head  up  in  a  movement  of  imperious  anger. 
"Bruno,"  she  cried,  "what  are  you  talking  about? 
You  cannot  possibly  mean  that  he  would  speak  against 
the  boy's  mother  to  him !  " 


io8  YELLOWLEAF 

"  With  his  eyes,  Eccellenza,  with  his  eyes  he  speaks, 
Mr.  Aghassy;  by  his  voice,  by  his  manner,  by  his 
gestures.  Ah!  furbo,  furbissimo,  he  is,  Signer 
Aghassy ! " 

"  Furbo !  "  repeated  Lady  Mary  under  her  breath. 
"  Artful— sly." 

Presently  she  asked  in  a  voice  of  extreme  reason- 
ableness :  "  What  you  have  said  is  very  grave,  my 
friend.  Are  you  sure  it  is  just?  " 

The  strong  afternoon  sun,  in  a  patch  of  which  the 
old  fellow  stood  at  the  top  of  the  steps,  showed  a 
tremor  in  his  delicately  cut  face.  He  might  have  been 
a  duke  reprimanded  by  his  sovereign  lady,  in  the  dignity 
in  which  he  turned  and  answered  her. 

"  Eccellenza,  I  am  an  old  man.  I  was  a  middle- 
aged  man  when  the  Signorina  Lili  was  a  little  child, 
and  I  used  to  carry  her  from  the  carriage  to  the  door 
to  keep  her  feet  from  the  wet.  With  respect  speaking, 
she  was  fond  of  me  then,  and  trusted  me,  and  I  got 
to  know  her  well;  and  now  she  herself  is  thirty-seven 
years  old,  and  she  has  changed  very  little  with  the 
years.  She  is  still  almost  a  child  in  many  ways,  and 
I,  whom  she  doesn't  suspect  of  trying  to  read  her,  can 
see  more  than  you,  to  save  whose  happiness  she  tells  " — 
he  hesitated — "  what  is  not  true." 

And  it  seemed  to  the  old  woman  in  the  wheel-chair 
as  if  for  a  very  long  time  she,  too,  had  known  that  her 
daughter-in-law  was  suffering  in  some  secret  part  of 
her  mind.  A  blaze  of  anger  rose  in  her  heart  against 
Aghassy  and  against  her  grandson. 

Things  might  have  happened  differently  if  those 


YELLOWLEAF  109 

two  had  come  back  just  then,  but  the  ring  at  the  bell 
was  not  theirs.  Bruno,  when  he  had  been  gone  a  few 
minutes,  came  padding  down  the  hall  with  a  card  on  a 
little  silver  tray.  "  A  lady  would  like  to  see  Your 
Excellency,"  he  said,  the  well-trained  servant  and 
nothing  more. 

Lady  Mary  looked  at  the  card.  "  Mrs.  Cuthbert- 
son !  "  she  said.  "  I  don't  know  any  Mrs.  Cuthbertson, 
Bruno.  I  don't  think  I  want  to  see  her." 

The  man  stood  respectfully  waiting  for  her  to  make 
up  her  mind.  No  one  looking  at  them  would  have 
guessed  how  confidentially  they  had  been  talking  three 
minutes  before. 

Lady  Mary  looked  up  at  him.  "  Well,  you  little  old 
imbecile,"  she  said  in  Italian  affectionately.  "  Tell  me 
what  you  think,  what  is  she  like,  who  is  she?  " 

And  Bruno  answered  earnestly :  "  I  have  never 
seen  this  lady  before,  but  I  hope  you  will  see  her, 
Your  Excellency." 


CHAPTER  IX 


BRUNO  would  as  soon  have  stood  on  his  head  in  the 
middle  of  Regent  Street  as  shown  anyone  on  earth 
into  the  drawing-room  before  Lady  Mary  was  there, 
so  by  the  time  he  had  wheeled  her  into  her  Corner  and 
got  back  to  the  front  hall,  the  strange  lady  had  appar- 
ently become  a  little  nervous,  and,  when  the  old  man 
appeared,  she  said  with  a  break  in  her  voice:  "If  the 
lady  doesn't  want  to  see  me,  I  can  come  some  other 
time." 

It  was  more  than  social  discomfort  she  felt,  and 
Bruno  read  flight  in  her  eye,  for  with  great  firmness 
he  ushered  her,  almost  against  her  will,  into  the  draw- 
ing-room and  down  its  length  round  the  corner. 

Bruno's  Latin  tongue  being  incapable  of  coping 
with  such  a  name  as  Cuthbertson,  it  would  be  unsafe  to 
declare  how  he  announced  the  stranger ;  but  that  mat- 
tered very  little,  and  Lady  Mary,  in  her  gentlest  voice, 
bade  her  caller  sit  down. 

"  I  was  out  in  the  glass  gallery  there,"  she  said. 
"  And  my  butler  had  to  wheel  me  in  here.  That  is  why 
you  were  kept  waiting.  I  am  sorry." 

Mrs.  Cuthbertson  was  a  tall,  finely  built  woman 
with  a  large,  almost  classically  modelled  face,  and  rich 
dark  hair  with  a  strong  natural  wave  in  it.  Lady  Mary 
judged  her  to  be  about  forty.  She  was  not  badly 
dressed,  and  her  hat  must  have  cost  a  good  deal  of 
no 


YELLOWLEAF  in 

money,  with  its  badly  applied  birds  of  Paradise.  She 
was  plainly  not  a  lady,  but  she  by  no  means  belonged 
to  what  Lady  Mary  in  the  innocence  of  her  simple 
heart  called  the  lower  classes.  She  sat  stiffly  in  the 
chair  opposite  her  hostess,  her  large,  well-shaped  hands, 
in  expensive  pearl-coloured  gloves,  clutching  each  other 
nervously.  It  struck  Lady  Mary  that  she  must  have 
come  to  beg  in  some  way,  probably  for  some  favourite 
charity  of  her  own.  The  silence  growing  painful,  the 
old  lady  spoke.  "  Won't  you  tell  me,"  she  said,  "  why 
you  have  come  to  see  me  ?  "  and  then  ridiculously  it 
struck  her  that  Mrs.  Cuthbertson  would  have  been 
better  pleased  if  she  had  asked  to  what  she  owed  the 
honour  of  her  visit. 

"  I  hope  you  won't  be  angry  with  me,  it's  being 
Sunday  and  all — I  came  on  purpose  on  Sunday  be- 
cause I  knew  that  they  would  be  out." 

"  Oh !  "  Something  in  her  manner  startled,  almost 
alarmed  Lady  Mary.  After  over  a  minute  she  added : 
"  I  see.  You  mean  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Aghassy,  or  my 
grandson,  James  Dampierre  ?  " 

The  woman  started  as  if  something  had  hurt  her, 
and  she  swallowed  hard.  "  Yes.  I  mean  Mr.  Aghassy 
and  his  wife." 

Lady  Mary,  always  tactful,  always  objective,  paused 
for  a  moment,  seeing  the  picture  made  by  her  guest  and 
herself  as  it  must  have  looked  to  an  outsider.  And 
then,  in  a  momentary  incarnation  of  Mrs.  Cuthbertson, 
regarded  herself,  Lady  Mary  Dampierre,  with  a  kind 
of  nervous  fear,  so  strange  and  menacing  she  knew  she 
must  look.  Then  she  heard  herself  say  slowly  and  in 


ii2  YELLOWLEAF 

the  modulated,  musical  voice  that  she  recognized  as  one 
of  her  most  potent  weapons:  "  Then  you  do  not  wish 
to  see  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Aghassy?  " 

The  layer  of  civilization  seemed  to  slip  away  from 
Mrs.  Cuthbertson  at  this  question,  and  it  was  a  very 
simple,  decent,  undefended  creature  who  answered: 
"  See  him!  My  God,  no!  He'd  skin  me  alive  if  he 
knew  I  had  come  here." 

"  Skin  you  alive !  "  Lady  Mary  murmured.  "  What 
a  horrid  thought!  Would  he  indeed^?  Dear  m^! 

How  extremely  unpleasant! "  She  let  her  voice 

trail  away  purposely  into  silence,  and  then  added, 
suddenly  sitting  up  in  her  chair  and  leaning  forward, 
her  weight  on  her  hands  which  curved  over  the 
polished  arms  of  her  chair:  "  Then  you  know  Jacques 
Aghassy?" 

Her  attack  was  so  sudden  that  the  less  perfectly 
equipped  Mrs.  Cuthbertson  flinched,  and,  so  to  speak, 
let  fall  her  arrows  and  her  shield.  "  Know  him ! 
Know  him!"  she  stammered.  "Well,  you  just  look 

here "  Rising,  she  dragged  at  a  chain  round  her 

neck  until  she  withdrew  from  her  bosom  a  flat  gold 
locket,  which  opened  with  a  snap  under  the  nervous 
action  of  her  grey  suede  fingers,  and,  bending  over, 
thrust  it  into  Lady  Mary's  hand. 

"  I  can't  get  it  off  my  neck,"  she  said;  "  it's  never 
been  off  my  neck  since  he  was  born — Theodore,  I 
mean " 

Lady  Mary,  whose  only  conscious  feeling  was  one 
of  having  been  there,  and  having  felt  all  these  painful 
sensations  before,  gazed  for  a  moment  at  the  roseate 


YELLOWLEAF  113 

child's  face  that  smiled  at  her  from  the  locket.  "  I 
see,"  she  said  gently,  conscious  chiefly  of  feeling  an 
immense  boredom,  as  one  who  listens  to  an  old  and 
undramatically  told  tale.  "  I  see.  Your  little  boy,  and 
— Mr.  Aghassy's.  He  looks — a  charming  child."  To 
her  distressed  sight  the  locket  and  the  big  woman 
behind  it  seemed  to  melt  away  into  a  beneficent  mist, 
as  if  Athene,  the  grey-eyed,  had  had  a  finger  in  the 
pie.  She  was  conscious  suddenly  of  her  age;  that 
she  was  seventy-nine  years  old — nine  years  over  the 
span  allotted  to  the  old ;  she  felt  tired,  without  sinew ; 
that  her  brain  had  had  its  day,  that  her  resilience  was 
gone;  she  felt  that  she,  Mary  Catherine  Dampierre, 
stood  at  the  stern  of  some  old-fashioned  ship  travel- 
ling swiftly  out  into  the  unharvested  sea,  while  under 
her  eyes  stood,  on  a  receding  shore,  those  she  loved, 
beyond  reach  of  her  help  and  her  wisdom.  Never  in 
her  long  life  had  she  suffered  as  she  suffered  then. 
This  dreadful  thing,  a  thing  that  happened  every  day 
between  the  covers  of  novels,  this  thing  now  had  hap- 
pened to  Lily  Dampierre,  her  Lily:  her  son's  wife. 
She  was  conscious  in  the  very  brief  silence  that  fol- 
lowed Mrs.  Cuthbertson's  production  of  her  locket  that 
this  dreadful  thing  had  happened  ever  since  the  world 
began.  There  was  Queen  Eleanor,  and  the  fair  Rosa- 
mund; there  was  the  unhappy  German  wife  of  the 
second  Medici,  Francis,  and  Bianca  Capello;  there  was 
Perdita,  and  rumoured  if  not  well-authenticated  cases 
nearer  to  our  own  day.  The  world — a  big  green  ball, 
floating  in  ether  (which  element  she  privately  could 
not  dissociate  from  the  ether  of  evil  smell  used  in  hos- 
8 


ii4  YELLOWLEAF 

pitals) — these  evil  things  had  been  happening  ever  since 
the  world  began.  Cleopatra,  for  instance,  the  hussy  ; 

Aspasia Then  her  mind  cleared  suddenly,  and 

before  her  she  saw,  not  the  beautiful  classic  face  that 
had  captivated  Jacques  Aghassy;  nor  even  the  mater- 
nal angel,  the  mother  of  the  dimpled  Theodore  in  the 
locket ;  but  a  pair  of  large  pale  grey  hands — paws,  she 
called  them,  with  her  suddenly  restored  sense  of 
humour— clasped  tightly  together  on  the  shiny  black 
Charmeuse  knees. 

"  I  don't  quite  see,"  she  heard  herself  saying,  "  what 
I  can  do  for  you.  I  think  if  you  knew  my  daughter-in- 
law — Mrs.  Aghassy  is  my  daughter-in-law " 

Mrs.  Cuthbertson  interrupted  her  eagerly.  "  Oh,  I 
know  all  that,  My  Lady — Lady  Mary,  I  mean.  I 
have  looked  you  all  up  in  Debrett.  That's  where,"  she 
added  with  a  sudden  smile  that  gave  a  lovely  curve  to 
her  mouth,  "  we  have  the  pull  over  you." 

Lady  Mary  knew  exactly  what  she  meant,  so  she 
wasted  no  time  in  asking  her.  "  How  old,"  she  asked 
gently,  "  is  your  little  boy  ?  " 

"  He's  three  and  a  half.  And  mind  yer,"  Mrs. 
Cuthbertson  added,  her  fear  having  left  her,  "  he's  the 
dearest  little  chap." 

"  Why  did  you  not  marry  Mr.  Aghassy  ?  " 

Up  Mrs.  Cuthbertson's  big,  beautiful  face — for  it 
was  beautiful,  although  worn  and  a  little  haggard — 
crept  a  most  beautiful  flush.  "  You  see,"  she  stam- 
mered, with  an  awkwardness  that  Lady  Mary  felt  to 
be  endearing,  "  my  husband — he  was  post-master  at 
Crevell  in  Gloucester — only  died  in  19 — ." 


YELLOWLEAF  115 

Lady  Mary  stiffened  visibly  in  her  chair.  "  Ten 
what  month  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  The  fourteenth  of  July."  There  was  a  pause. 
This  unknown  man,  this  rural  post-master,  had  died 
just  four  months  before  that  day  when  Aghassy  had 
brought  the  lilies  of  the  valley  to  Yellowleaf ;  the  day 
when  Lily  had  promised  to  marry  him.  For  a  moment 
Lady  Mary  could  have  screamed,  as  most  women  of 
any  world  experience  must  have  felt  themselves  at  some 
period  capable  of  screaming,  not  so  much  for  the  base- 
ness and  wickedness  as  for  the  thick-skinnedness  of 
men.  There  was  less  indignation  for  her  beloved  Lily 
than  for  this  poor,  large,  soft-throated  Mrs.  Cuth- 
bertson,  the  mother  of  the  poor  little  Theodore — the 
gift  of  God.  "  I — am  sorry  for  you,"  she  said  slowly, 
"  very  sorry — but — "  with  an  overwhelming  desire 
for  solitude — "  I  don't  quite  see  how  I  can  help  you. 

If  I  can  be  of  any  use  to  you "     She  paused, 

ashamed  of  her  impulse  and  hoping  that  this  meaning 
might  have  escaped  the  common  woman  opposite  her. 

But  the  common  woman  had  understood.  "  But  I 
don't  mean  that,"  poor  Mrs.  Cuthbertson  said,  twisting 
together  her  big  hands  to  the  serious  detriment  of  those 
delicate  gloves  of  hers.  "  I  have  not  come  here  to  beg, 

My  Lady — I  mean,  Lady  Mary.     Only "     She 

swallowed  so  hard  that  Lady  Mary  could  not  decide 
whether  she  had  heard  or  merely  seen  the  swallow. 
"  But  I  think — I  think  he  ought  to  come  to  see  us  some- 
times. And  the  boy  is  beginning  to  understand  now. 
He's  an  awful  big  kid,  too,  and  he  asks  about  his 
'  Daddy  '  quite  beautifully,  and  says  '  Twinkle,  twinkle, 


n6  YELLOWLEAF 

little  star ! '  and  '  Simple  Simon  met  a  pieman.'  *  Out 
of  the  big,  beautiful  creature's  eyes  bubbled  two  great 
tears.  "  I  came  to  ask  you — and  mind  you,  I  don't 
want  to  make  any  trouble,  and  I  would  not  dream  of 
telling — her — but  oh,  My  Lady — I  did  ought  to  say 
Lady  Mary,  only  I  forget — don't  you  think  he  ought 
to  come  to  see  us  just  once  in  a  while  ?  " 

There  was  something  exceedingly  decent  and  digni- 
fied in  the  way  the  poor  thing  allowed  the  tears  to  slide 
uncontrolled  down  her  cheeks.  She  was  not  ashamed 
of  her  grief,  and  in  this  Lady  Mary  sympathized. 

"  I  do  indeed  think  he  ought  to  go  and  see  you," 
the  old  lady  declared  with  the  fierce  vigour  peculiar  to 
her.  "  It's  perfectly  abominable  of  him  that  he  doesn't. 
How  long  is  it  since  you  have  seen  him  ?  " 

But  Mrs.  Cuthbertson  took  this  partisanship  in  bad 
part. 

"  It's  over  six  months  since  he's  been — I  thought  he 

was  in  America  until  Easter,  but Don't  you 

think  he's  unkind  ?  "  she  declared.  "  For  he  isn't. 
And  he  does  love  Theodore.  You'd  think  so,  too,  if 
you  could  see  them  together!  Of  course,  I  couldn't 
expect  him — a  man  like  him — to  marry  me;  and  he 
never  lied  to  me,"  she  added  proudly.  "  He  never 
pretended  he  would  marry  me.  I  always  knew  he  would 
have  to  marry  somebody  rich  some  day." 

Lady  Mary  leaned  forward  in  her  chair.  "  Rich !  " 
she  echoed.  "  Now  you  are  wronging  him,  you  poor 
thing!  If  there's  one  thing  Jacques  Aghassy  cares 
nothing  about,  it's  money." 

Into  the  wide,  rather  stupid  grey  eyes  of  the  woman 


YELLOWLEAF  117 

opposite  her  came  a  look  of  such  honest  incredulity 
and  amazement  that  Lady  Mary  was  struck  dumb, 
and  before  she  could  speak  Mrs.  Cuthbertson  had  taken 
up  the  word. 

"  Him  not  care  for  money !  Why  it's  the  one  thing 
in  the  world  he  does  care  for.  He  loves  it!  That  is 
one  reason,"  she  added,  "  why  he  stuck  to  me  so  long. 
I  never  wanted  much,  you  see." 

Lady  Mary  could  well  believe  it.  It  was  a  generous, 
unacquisitive  face  she  saw  there  in  the  high-backed 
chair,  and  she  felt  as  many  people  have  felt  before 
her,  that  the  gods  were  mixing  up  the  roles  in  the  little 
drama  with  a  curious  lack  of  discrimination.  She, 
Lady  Mary  Dampierre,  being  on  this  occasion  the  un- 
declared representative  of  the  wife  in  the  case,  should 
have  had  right  whole-heartedly  on  her  side,  and  this 
splendid-looking  Mrs.  Cuthbertson,  the  social  outlaw, 
the  mistress,  the  adulteress,  should  have  been  definitely 
and  fully  in  the  wrong;  but  things  had  not  happened 
in  this  way,  and  the  law-breaking  mother  of  the  with- 
out-any-legal-status-gift-of-God  Theodore  seemed  by 
some  twist  of  circumstances  to  be  without  calculation, 
and  in  all  simplicity  very  much  in  the  right. 

Then  suddenly  Lady  Mary  realized  the  absurdity 
of  the  whole  thing — the  absurdity  of  her,  Lady  Mary 
Dampierre,  knowing  anything  about  this  sentimental 
free-booter;  the  absurdity  of  the  free-booter  sitting 
there  in  the  corner;  the  absurdity  of  the  free-booter 
knowing  that  at  this  hour  Aghassy  would  be  out.  The 
whole  ridiculous,  vulgar  jumble  struck  the  old  lady  so 
strongly  that  for  a  moment  she  felt  almost  faint. 


ii8  YELLOWLEAF 

"  But  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?  "  she  asked.  "  If  you 
want  to  make  mischief  it  is  not  to  me  that  you  should 
have  come,  but  to  Mr.  Aghassy's  wife,  who,  as  you 
know,  thanks  to  your  familiarity  with  Debrett,  was  my 
dearly  loved  only  son's  wife,  before  she  married  your 
son's  father." 

But  Mrs.  Cuthbertson  could  see  no  humour  in  the 
situation. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  murmured.  "  I  suppose  I 
oughtn't  to  have  come,  but  I  thought  perhaps  you  could 
make  him  see  that  he  ought  to  come  and  see  Theodore. 
After  all,  it  isn't  Theodore's  fault,  and  a  father  is  a 
father — or  ought  to  be." 

"  Or  ought  to  be,"  Lady  Mary  echoed  grimly. 
"  Then  you  would  like  me  to  tell  Mr.  Aghassy  that 
you  have  been  here  and  that  you  wish  to  see  him?  " 

Mrs.  Cuthbertson  nodded. 

"  Have  you  written  to  him?  " 

Again  Mrs.  Cuthbertson  nodded.  "  Hundreds  of 
times.  Only  not  here,  of  course.  I  have  written  to 
his  club.  He  would  not  have  liked  it,"  she  added  in 
a  matter-of-fact  voice,  "  if  I  had  written  here." 

There  was  a  long  pause.  And  then  Lady  Mary 
said :  "  I  am  very  sorry  for  you,  but  I  must  have  time 
to  think  before  I  take  any  step  in  the  matter.  I  very 
much  appreciate  your  not  trying  to  see  or  communi- 
cate with  my  daughter-in-law." 

Mrs.  Cuthbertson  rose,  and  the  blankness  of  her 
face  at  the  old  lady's  speech  was  in  its  way  a  fine 
testimony  to  her  honesty. 

"  Why  should  I  write  to  your  daughter-in-law  ?  " 


YELLOWLEAF  119 

she  asked  roughly.  "  It  would  be  worse  for  her  than 
it  is  for  me,  if  she  knew." 

Lady  Mary's  eyes  filled  with  uncontrollable  tears 
at  this  ineloquent  little  speech,  and  she  was  about  to 
make  some  sympathetic  remark  when  a  burst  of  voices 
and  laughter  in  the  hall  froze  the  cords  in  her  throat. 
"  It  is — they  have  all  come  back  together,"  she  said. 
"  You  don't  want  to  see  them,  I  suppose?  " 

"  My  God,  no !  "  breathed  the  easily  articulate  Mrs. 
Cuthbertson.  Lady  Mary  turned  and  pointed  to  the 
door  over  her  shoulder.  "Go  in  there,"  she  said; 
"  that's  my  bedroom.  The  old  man  who  let  you  in, 
will  let  you  out.  Write  to  me  and  give  me  your 
address.  Oh,  your  poor  thing !  "  she  went  on,  breaking 
off  to  add,  as  the  noise  of  voices  grew  louder :  "  Be 
quick !  Run !  " 

As  the  door  shut  softly  she  rang,  and  Bruno  came 
hurrying  down  the  long  room.  There  was  a  quick 
exchange  of  words.  The  old  man  closed  the  door  lead- 
ing into  the  glass  gallery  and  drew  the  old  gold  silken 
curtains,  thus  shutting  out  all  view  of  the  gallery  and 
the  garden.  Five  minutes  later,  as  Aghassy  and  Jim, 
both  correctly  dressed  for  riding,  and  Lily,  who  on  her 
way  home  had  met  them  at  the  doorstep,  sat  round 
Lady  Mary's  generously  spread  tea-table,  the  old  lady's 
sharp  ear  caught  a  very  faint  sound  of  footsteps  going 
away  from  her  room,  and  for  a  moment  she  was  silent 
and  a  little  absent-minded,  her  dark  eyes  fixed  on 
Aghassy's  face.  Then  suddenly  she  realized  the 
strength  of  the  cards  Chance  had  thrust  into  her  hand, 
and  her  face  changed  subtly  as  she  looked  at  the  little 


120  YELLOWLEAF 

group.  Now  she  would  see  whether  Aghassy  would 
agree  to  Charles  Thorn's  return !  She  had  tried  brib- 
ery and  failed.  Now,  with  a  little  chuckle,  she  com- 
mended to  herself  the  idea  of  blackmail. 

II 

Lady  Mary  went  to  her  room  to  dress  for  dinner 
without  having  said  a  word  to  anybody  about  her 
singular  call.  She  was  extremely  angry,  as  well  as 
distressed,  by  this  proof  of  Aghassy's  duplicity  to- 
wards Lily,  for  she  made  no  mistake  as  to  the  full 
meaning  of  Mrs.  Cuthbertson's  story,  and  it  was  dis- 
concerting as  well  as  insulting  that  all  the  man's  appar- 
ent rectitude  of  life  and  domestic  tastes  should  prove 
to  have  been  only  a  pose.  But  the  fair-minded  old 
woman  was  even  more  angry  about  his  treatment  of 
his  own  child  than  she  was  about  his  behaviour  to- 
wards her  daughter-in-law.  For  she  was  far  too  wise 
to  have  expected  Lily  to  have  been  the  first  woman  in 
the  life  of  a  man  like  Aghassy,  and  she  found  on  re- 
flection that  what  she  had  thought,  as  her  first  sus- 
picions of  him  were  lulled  into  tranquillity  by  the 
immense  cleverness  of  his  sustained,  unfaltering 
course  of  deceit,  was  that,  after  the  usual  storms  and 
adventures  of  young  manhood,  he  had  settled  down 
with  extraordinary  ease  into  his  new  life  of  rather  dull 
respectability.  Now  she  found,  as  Drake  dressed  her, 
and  her  mind  went  on  working  rapidly,  that  she  had 
unconsciously  admired  the  man  for  his  strength  in  liv- 
ing an  existence  that  she  had  instinctively  known  to  be 
strange  and  difficult  for  him. 


YELLOWLEAF  121 

All  sorts  of  old  impressions  that  she  had  thought 
effaced  came  back  to  her  now  with  startling  clearness, 
through  the  knowledge  that  she  had  gained  by  poor 
Mrs.  Cuthbertson's  visit.  Mrs.  Cuthbertson's  story 
had  acted  like  acid  on  the  sensitive  plate  of  her  mind. 
She  had  an  odd  kind  of  feeling  that  she  was  not  see- 
ing things  that  were  new  to  her,  but  remembering 
things  that  she  had  always  known,  and  disregarded. 

Drake,  the  woman  with  the  pinched  red  nose,  and 
hard  fingers  that  were  as  cold  as  ice  all  the  year  round, 
went  through  her  various  duties  with  the  comfortable 
dexterity  for  the  sake  of  which  her  mistress  overlooked 
her  disagreeable  expression  of  bad-temper.  Drake  said 
not  a  word  but,  like  the  immortal  bird,  she  thought  a 
great  deal,  and  once  Lady  Mary,  catching  a  cold  light 
in  a  swift  sidelong  glance,  allowed  herself  the  mental 
refreshment  of  a  remark. 

"  Poor  Drake !  "  she  said.  "  You  see  quite  plainly 
that  something  has  happened.  And  you  would  so  like 
to  know  what  it  is !  " 

Drake's  correct  refutation  of  this  diagnosis  of  her 
mind  fell  on  deaf  ears,  for  Lady  Mary  was  once  more 
deep  in  thought,  and  finally,  when  Bruno  knocked  at 
her  door  to  take  her  into  the  dining-room,  there  was  a 
wicked  light  in  her  old  eye,  and  in  her  pale  cheeks  a 
little  flush  as  of  anticipated  triumph. 

"  Bruno,"  she  said,  during  her  slow  progress  down 
the  hall,  "  I  heard  of  a  piece  of  slang  the  other  day, 
derived,  I  believe,  from  the  music-halls — to  say  that  a 
person's  '  number  is  up.' ' 

Bruno  knew,  and  translated  the  phrase  into  its 


122  YELLOWLEAF 

Italian  equivalent  with  perfect  sang-froid.  He  never 
came  for  Lady  Mary  until  everybody  else  was  at  table, 
and  now,  as  they  drew  near  the  dining-room  door,  she 
stopped  their  progress  for  a  moment  and  he  came 
round  in  front  of  her,  as  he  always  did  when  she 
spoke  with  him,  for  he  did  not  consider  it  polite  to 
stand  behind  her. 

"  You  will  be  glad  to  know,  Bruno,"  she  said  in  an 
undertone,  "  that  Mr.  Martin's  number  is  up." 


CHAPTER  X 


FOR  some  reason  Aghassy  was  in  high  feather  that 
night.  He  was  in  one  of  the  moods  when  his  queer 
face  might  almost  have  been  called  handsome.  He 
and  Jim  both  always  dressed  for  dinner;  Lily  was  in 
a  pretty  new  frock  of  silver-grey  transparent  stuff,  that 
fell  in  soft  folds  round  her  Tanagra-statuette-like 
figure.  Lady  Mary  noticed  at  once  that  they  were 
having  champagne;  the  old-fashioned  mahogany  wine- 
cooler  was  drawn  up  between  Aghassy  and  his  wife. 
The  old  lady  ate  her  soup  in  almost  unbroken  silence, 
listening  to  Aghassy's  talk  with  Jim,  which  was  chiefly 
about  their  motor  ride  that  afternoon.  They  had  gone 
down  into  Surrey  to  see  some  friends  of  Aghassy's,  it 
seemed,  and  it  had  all  been  very  amusing  and  delightful. 

"  Jim's  made  great  friends  with  a  youth  named 
Percy  Randall,  who  has  invited  him  down  to  his 
father's  to  stay  for  the  week-end  next  week,"  Aghassy 
announced  carelessly  after  a  while. 

"  Who  is  he?  "  It  was  Lily  who  spoke,  her  small, 
non-committal  face  bent  over  her  plate. 

"  Well,  according  to  you,  I  suppose,"  her  husband 
answered  a  little  boisterously,  "  he's  nobody  at  all. 
His  father's  a  very  successful  stock-broker;  and  the 
boy  himself — he's  about  twenty,  I  should  think — is  in 
his  father's  office." 

"  I  am  not  a  snob,  Jacques,"  Lily  said  gently.  "  You 

123 


124  YELLOWLEAF 

know  I'm  not,  and  that  is  not  what  I  meant.  Do  you 
like  him  ?  Is  he  nice?  " 

Aghassy  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Nice ! — I  think 
so.,  I  don't  know  very  much  about  him.  He's  an 
agreeable,  jolly  young  fellow.  I  thought,"  he  added, 
looking  at  Lady  Mary  with  a  little  smile  of  perfectly 
polite  raillery,  "  that  you  would  all  be  pleased  to  hear 
of  Jim's  going  about  a  bit  with  other  young  men !  " 

At  this  delightful  epithet  young  Jim  straightened 
himself  up,  trying  to  hide  a  gratified  smile;  but  Lily, 
without  looking  at  him,  said  to  her  husband  gently: 
"  Jim  is  not  a  young  man,  Jacques.  Are  you,  Jinks  ?  " 

The  smile  was  a  little  wistful,  and  when  the  boy  dis- 
regarded it  with  an  impatient  frown,  Lady  Mary  would 
have  been  delighted  to  ring  his  neck. 

"  You  are  always  trying  to  make  me  out  a  kid, 
Mother.  After  all,  I  shall  be  seventeen  in  a  couple  of 
months." 

Lady  Mary's  voice,  as  she  spoke,  was  very  musical, 
but  it  was  cold.  "  I  was  always  under  the  impression 
that  your  birthday  was  in  October,  Jim." 

The  boy's  lips  were  still  in  the  loose  stage  of  male 
children's  before  the  tightening  up  of  the  muscles  that 
comes  with  early  manhood.  He  frowned  again;  he 
more  than  frowned,  he  pouted.  "  In  three  months, 
then,"  he  muttered. 

"  Boys  of  sixteen  years  and  nine  months  are  cer- 
tainly not  old  enough  to  choose  their  own  friends," 
put  in  Aghassy  adroitly.  "That  is  all  your  mother 
means;  but  I'm  sure,  when  I  tell  her  that  young  Ran- 
dall is  a  very  charming  fellow,  she  will  have  no  objec- 


YELLOWLEAF  125 

tion  to  your  going  down  there  for  the  week-end,  par- 
ticularly as  his  father  is  a  very  old  friend  of  mine." 

Her  eyes  no  longer  held  by  ignorance,  Lady  Mary 
saw  all  too  plainly  that  Lily  was  made  very  unhappy 
and  very  uneasy  by  this  conversation.  Last  night  she 
might  not  have  noticed  it,  for  her  daughter-in-law's 
little  face  was  perfectly  composed  and  did  not  change 
colour;  but  now,  in  her  new  knowledge,  acquired  of 
Bruno  and  Mrs.  Cuthbertson,  she  felt  all  the  tension 
and  the  under-currents  most  acutely,  and  she  regretted 
Lily's  next  speech. 

"  I'm  sure,  Jacques,  that  he's  nice  if  you  think  so; 
only,  as  Jim  is  so  very  young,  won't  you  ask  this  young 
man  to  spend  the  week-end  here  with  us?  " 

Aghassy,  who  had  risen  and  taken  a  bottle  of  cham- 
pagne out  of  its  icy  nest,  wrapped  his  napkin  round 
its  neck  before  he  answered.  Then  he  gave  one  twist 
of  the  corkscrew,  after  he  had  cut  the  wire,  and  looked 
up.  "  Just  as  you  like,  my  dear.  He's  your  son — and 
mine  only  through  affection — but  you  will  forgive  me 
saying  that  if  he  were  my  son  I  should  give  him  a  little 
more  freedom.  Jim  is  old  for  his  age,  and  he's  nearly 
six  feet  tall,  and  I  don't  think — "  he  hesitated,  as  if 
searching  for  the  word — "  molly-coddling  is  good  for 
him." 

At  this  the  boy's  sullen  excitement  broke  bounds, 
and  he  burst  out  into  a  nervous,  high-pitched  clamour 
of  protest  and  criticism  of  his  mother  and  her  ideas 
about  him.  "  That's  always  the  way,  always  the  way ! 
Jacques  understands.  So  does  Martin.  It's  only  you 
who  think  I'm  going  to  stay  a  baby  for  ever.  I  wonder 


126  YELLOWLEAF 

you  don't  make  me  wear  my  hair  long,  and  a  lace 
collar,  like  that  little  beast  in  the  book !  " 

"  Oh,  darling !  "  protested  Lily,  leaning  across  the 
table,  her  eyes  starry  with  kept-back  tears.  "  You 
don't  understand,  neither  does  Jacques.  You  know 
that  Arthur  Hesketh  always  says  that  we  must  keep 
you  quiet  and  take  care  of  your  health " 

But  the  boy  had  evidently  a  good  deal  of  pent-up 
resentment  to  get  rid  of,  and,  paying  no  heed  to  her, 
he  went  on  with  his  rapid,  unjust,  youthful  arraign- 
ment. He  was  sick  and  tired  of  it,  he  was  as  tall  as 
most  fellows  of  twenty,  and  he  wasn't  going  to  be 
treated  like  a  kid  any  more 

His  poor  little  mother  looked  positively  beaten 
down  by  his  words,  like,  Lady  Mary  thought,  some 
delicate  flower  in  a  hail-storm.  It  was  Aghassy  who 
ended  the  scene,  for  Lady  Mary  was  afraid  to  speak 
lest  she  might  lose  her  temper. 

"  Here,  old  man,  enough  of  that  now !  You're  hurt- 
ing your  mother's  feelings,  and  that's  being  like  a  baby, 
and  not  a  man."  He  handed  a  brimming  glass  of  wine 
across  to  the  boy  and  bade  him  drink  it.  "  Now  then, 
Lily,  you  take  this." 

The  storm  was  over,  but  it  had  been  one  of  those 
horrid  storms  that  leave  the  sky  as  dark  and  menacing 
as  when  they  begin,  and  for  a  moment  there  was  silence 
as  Bruno  came  back  into  the  room  and  proceeded 
about  his  duties.  The  wine  did  not  quiet  young  Jim's 
nerves,  but  it  changed  the  nature  of  his  excitement, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  he  was  shouting  with  laughter, 
and  Aghassy  filled  his  glass  again.  When  dinner  was 


YELLOWLEAF  127 

nearly  over,  the  boy  remembered  that  the  question  of 
his  week-end  was  still  unsettled, 

"  Well,"  he  asked  suddenly,  of  nobody  in  particu- 
lar, "  am  I  to  be  allowed  to  go  down  to  the  '  Bee-hive,' 
or  not?" 

Aghassy  frowned  at  him  benevolently.  "  That's  all 
right.  That's  all  right,  old  chap.  Don't  you  worry! 
I  will  make  your  mother  understand." 

Jim  thanked  him  with  a  look,  and  then  added  with 
assumed  carelessness :  "  By  the  way,  I  forgot  to  tell 
you  I  promised  to  dine  with  him — Randall,  I  mean — 
on  Tuesday  and  go  to  a  play." 

Nobody  spoke,  and  the  pause  threatened  to  be- 
come an  unmanageable  silence,  when  Lady  Mary,  after 
drawing  a  deep  breath  and  fixing  her  eyes  on  Aghassy, 
said  :  "  By  way  of  changing  the  subject  of  this  disturb- 
ing Mr.  Randall,  I  must  tell  you  about  a  visit  I  had  this 
afternoon." 

Lily  smiled  at  her  gratefully.  "  Yes,  Mamma. 
Who  was  it!  Not  Arthur  Hesketh?  I  should  be 
sorry  to  have  missed  him." 

Lady  Mary  shook  her  head  and  helped  herself  to 
an  olive. 

"  Oh  no.  It  wasn't  he.  It  was  a  Mrs.  Cuthbertson," 
and  she  went  on  eating  her  olive. 

"I  don't  think  I  know  her,  do  I?"  Lily  asked 
politely,  assuming  the  virtue  of  an  interest  that  it  was 
plain  she  did  not  feel. 

Aghassy  filled  his  glass  with  wine,  filled  it  to  the 
brim,  and  then  carried  it  slowly,  with  admirable  steadi- 
ness, to  his  lips.  Young  Jim,  who  felt  that  his  grand- 


128  YELLOWLEAF 

mother,  who  had  lately  been  not  very  satisfactory  to 
him,  had,  in  the  matter  of  his  evening  out,  come  to  his 
rescue  with  some  kindness,  asked  hastily  with  the 
rush  of  words  by  which  the  very  young  mistakenly 
believe  that  they  conceal  perturbation :  "  Isn't  she  the 
mother  of  those  red-headed  twins  who  came  to  lunch 
just  before  Christmas  ?  " 

Lady  Mary  shook  her  head,  her  eyes  fixed,  with  a 
dancing-devil  of  malice  in  each  of  them,  on  Aghassy's 
impenetrable  face.  He  was  cracking  nuts  and  eating 
them  with  every  appearance  of  enjoyment  and  serenity, 
but  she  knew  that  her  shaft  must  have  hit  him  very, 
very  hard,  and  she  rejoiced  exceedingly. 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  their  name  was  Wilkinson.  Not 
a  bad  guess  for  you,  Jinks!  This  lady,  who  by  the 
way  was  extremely  good-looking,  and  whom  I  liked 
very  much,  was  in  trouble,  private  trouble,  about  which 
I  mayn't  tell  you,  and  she  came  to  ask  me  to  help  her." 

"  Begging,  I  suppose,"  suggested  Lily,  not  at  all 
unkindly. 

"  No,  she  doesn't  want  money.  She  seems  a  gener- 
ous creature,  not  at  all  that  kind.  It  was  a  very  sad 
story  she  told  me " 

Dinner  was  over,  and  Bruno  had  gone  to  prepare 
the  coffee  that  they  always  drank  in  the  drawing-room ; 
Aghassy  laid  down  the  nut-crackers  very  softly,  and 
spoke.  "  I  hope,"  he  said,  "  that  you  are  going  to  be 
able  to  assist  this  poor  lady  ?  " 

Lady  Mary  met  his  eye,  and  not  without  admiration 
answered  him,  as  the  door  opened  and  Bruno  came  in 
and  took  his  place  behind  her  chair.  "  Yes,"  she  said 


YELLOWLEAF  129 

quietly,  "  I  think  I  shall  be  able  to  help  her ;  I  am  very 
glad  for  several  reasons  that  she  came  to  see  me." 

Aghassy  opened  the  door  and  followed  his  nephew 
into  the  drawing-room.  Lily  followed  them;  and, 
after  a  moment,  Bruno  pushed  her  chair  out  of  the 
door  and  down  the  long  hall. 

ii 

Charles  Thorn  came  back  the  next  afternoon,  but, 
instead  of  arriving  at  two,  he  missed  the  train  and  did 
not  get  in  till  nearly  dinner-time.  It  was  a  bitterly 
cold  summer's  day,  and  the  heavy,  dark  clouds  seemed 
surcharged  with  anger.  Thorn,  who  had  come  from 
the  station  with  his  bag  on  the  top  of  a  bus,  went  first 
to  Bruton  Street  and  looked  through  his  letters,  and 
then  walked  to  St.  John's  Wood. 

The  minute  he  set  foot  in  the  house,  he  smelt 
mischief. 

"  Hullo,  Bruno,"  he  said,  "  what  is  up  ?  Has  any- 
thing happened  ?  " 

The  old  man,  who  wore  an  odd  look  of  suppressed 
excitement  and  expectancy,  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
"  I  have  been  told  nothing,  Mr.  Thorn,"  he  said,  "  but 
I  think  it's  about  the  Signorino." 

Thorn  laughed  harshly.  "  Naturally  it  would  be. 
Poor  little  Jimmy ! "  Then  he  went  straight  to  the 
drawing-room  without  being  announced. 

Lady  Mary,  whose  huge  piece  of  embroidery  had 

been,  so  to  speak,  on  the  stocks  for  some  years,  and 

who  usually  worked  at  it  in  a  very  leisurely  if  not 

languid  way,  was  stabbing  at  it  with  furious  energy 

9 


130  YELLOWLEAF 

as  he  went  in,  and  when  she  saw  him  she  made  such  a 
strong  gesture  of  relief  and  welcome  that  her  thimble 
flew  off  her  finger  and  bounced  half-way  across  to  the 
hall-door. 

"  Thank  God !  "  she  said.  "  You  have  come  back 
at  last." 

Thorn,  although  at  times  a  frantically  vehement 
person  himself,  was  always  amused  at  the  vehemence 
of  others,  so  his  bony  face  softened  as  he  picked  up  the 
thimble  and  gave  it  to  his  aunt,  and  then  sat  down. 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  he  asked. 

Lady  Mary  pulled  herself  together.  "  Nothing, 
except  that  I'm  delighted  to  see  you  back." 

"  So  it  seems.  A  simple  dog  like  me  might  suspect 
you  of  being  gladder  to  see  me  to-day  after  three 
days'  absence,  than  you  were  when  I  returned  after 
being  away  for  two  years!  How  is  Lily?  "  he  asked 
abruptly. 

"  Lily's — the  same  as  usual." 

"And  Jim?" 

"  Ah !  "  A  little  smile  crept  round  Lady  Mary's 
mouth.  "  Jim  is  the  emancipated  one.  He  is  dining 
out  and  going  to  a  play  with  a  young  man  to-morrow." 

Thorn  stared.     "  What  young  man?  " 

"  Some  friend  of  Jacques." 

"  Oh !    Trouble  brewing,  is  there  ?  " 

"  Brewed !  "  confirmed  the  old  lady  succinctly. 

Then  the  door  opened  and  Aghassy  and  Lily  came 
in.  They  had  been  out  together,  and  she  still  wore 
her  hat. 

"  Hullo,   dear  colleague !  "   Aghassy  cried  gaily. 


YELLOWLEAF  131 

"  So  you  are  back."  He  had  a  fresh  colour,  looked 
thoroughly  serene  and  unmoved.  Lady  Mary  could 
have  torn  the  eyes  out  of  his  face  in  her  impotent  rage. 
She  knew  he  was  beaten ;  he  must  be  troubled  by  mere 
"hard  facts.  And  yet  here  he  was  as  serene  and  bright 
as  the  typical,  though  not  altogether  correctly  imagined, 
bridegroom  going  forth  to  his  bride. 

It  appeared  that  he  and  Lily  had  been  to  see  the 
collection  of  Spanish  pictures  at  Goupil's;  then  they 
had  had  tea  at  Rumpelmayer's,  and  been  struck  by 
the  extreme  plainness  of  all  the  little  Minnas  and 
Josephines  who  had  come  in  there,  accompanied  by 
callow  youths. 

"  If  a  woman  isn't  good,"  Aghassy  declared  gaily, 
"  she  ought  to  be  put  to  death  unless  she  can  at  least 
fool  people  into  thinking  her  pretty !  " 

Lady  Mary  looked  at  him  and  he  looked  at  her. 
Neither  of  them  spoke.  Even  Lily  noticed  something 
in  the  atmosphere,  and  turned  her  eyes  from  one  to 
the  other  in  innocent  inquiry.  Then  she  rose,  and 
walking  to  the  end  of  the  room  looked  out  across  the 
glass  gallery  into  the  twilit  garden. 

"  Oh,  there's  a  new  moon !  "  she  cried.  "  Come 
along,  Charles,  let's  go  and  wish." 

He  followed  her  without  a  word,  and  Lady  Mary 
and  Aghassy  were  alone. 

"  I  hope,"  Aghassy  said  pleasantly,  "  that  she 
didn't  see  the  moon  through  the  glass.  That  might,  you 
know,  have  disturbed  the  peace  of  the  whole  house- 
hold!" 

"  Yes  it  might."     It  seemed  to  the  old  woman, 


132  YELLOWLEAF 

strong  and  self-contained  though  she  was,  that  if  he 
didn't  break  his  maddening  silence  on  the  subject  of 
Mrs.  Cuthbertson  she  would  be  goaded  into  some  des- 
perate indiscretion.  Setting  her  teeth  hard,  she  drove 
her  needle  fiercely  through  the  taut  canvas,  the  silk 
whistling  as  she  did  so. 

"  I  always  think,"  Aghassy  said  serenely,  after  a 
pause,  "  that  your  Corner  is  at  its  very  best  at  this  hour 
of  a  summer  afternoon."  Then  seeing  that  she  made 
no  reply,  he  rose  deliberately.  "  I'm  afraid  I'm  boring 
you  with  my  artless  prattle,'  he  went  on.  "I  will  go 
and  join  Lily,  and  make  my  bow  to  the  new  moon. 
It's  always  well,  don't  you  think,"  he  added,  turning 
half-way  to  the  door,  "to  be  on  the  right  side  of  the 
gods!" 

in 

As  Lady  Mary  sat  reading  in  bed  late  that  night, 
after  a  perfectly  uneventful  evening,  during  which 
Charles  and  Aghassy  and  his  wife  all  sat  with  her, 
saying  good-night  to  her  a  little  after  ten,  when  Thorn 
went  home,  her  door  was  suddenly  burst  open  after  a 
hurried  knock,  to  which  she  had  not  had  time  to 
answer,  and  Bruno  came  in.  The  old  man  was 
violently  agitated.  His  face  was  white,  and  looked  as 
if  it  had  been  freshly  powdered,  as  those  bronze  South- 
ern skins  do  under  stress  of  strong  feeling,  and  his  eyes 
blazed  in  his  head. 

"Eccellenza!  Eccellenza!"  he  cried.  "An  apo- 
plexy on  him!  May  he  die  without  confession!  He 
has  killed  my  poor  little  dog,  my  poor,  good,  faithful 
little  Risotto." 


YELLOWLEAF  133 

He  spoke  in  Italian,  and  as  if  his  nearness  to  his  old 
mistress  had  softened  a  little  the  angry  fire  in  his 
heart,  tears  rolled  out  of  his  eyes.  There  was  no  need 
for  Lady  Mary  to  ask  whom  he  meant.  She  knew. 
"  Tell  me  about  it,  Bruno,  tell  me,"  she  said  gently, 
speaking  in  Italian  as  he  had  done.  "  Sit  down,  sit 
down  there,  and  tell  me  about  it" 

"  Signora,  I  have  known  all  the  evening  that  there 
was  something.  He  has  been  dreadful,  and  I  have 
been  afraid  of  him." 

"  Hush !  "  she  said  gently.  "  He  has  been  with  me 
all  the  evening,  and  he  has  been  quite  quiet." 

"  Quiet !  "  Bruno's  gesture  was  expressive  of  the 
most  respectful  scorn  for  his  mistress's  power  of  obser- 
vation. "  The  quieter  he  is,  the  more  dreadful !  You 
don't  know  him,  Eccellenza.  But  /  know,  and  the 
Signorina  Lili  knows.  While  they  were  in  the  garden 
before  dinner  looking  at  the  moon,  she  knew,  and  she 
trembled  as  she  went  upstairs.  I  saw  her  poor  hand 
on  the  bannisters " 

"  Never  mind  that,  Bruno.  Never  mind.  Tell  me 
about  the  dog." 

And  Bruno  told  her.  About  half  an  hour  before, 
he  had  gone  out,  as  was  his  habit,  to  give  his  little 
friend  a  run  before  going  to  bed ;  the  garden  was  dark, 
the  moon  being  so  little,  and  Aghassy,  who  had  gone 
out  after  leaving  the  drawing-room,  had  come  back 
opened  the  garden  door  quietly,  and  walked  without 
noise  across  the  grass  at  the  side  of  the  gravel-path. 

"  He  didn't  want  the  Signora  to  know  he  had  been 
out  Ah,  Eccellenza,  I  know,  I  know,  I  have  seen! 


134  YELLOWLEAF 

And  then,  as  he  crept  so  quickly,  so  quietly  to  the  door, 
his  latch-key  already  in  his  hand,  my  poor  little  Risotto, 
whom  he  had  not  seen,  ran  up  to  him;  poor  beast,  he 
didn't  know  him,  either,  and  he  ran  up  to  greet  him; 
then  somehow,"  the  old  man's  voice  shook,  and  he  sud- 
denly looked  very,  very  old,  "  in  the  darkness  Signor 
Aghassy  stumbled  over  the  dog  and  fell,  and  his  stick 
made  a  loud  clatter  on  the  steps;  and  then,  and  then, 
Signora,  that  devil  that's  in  him,  that  awful  devil, 
broke  out,  and  he  killed  my  little  dog." 

"  With — with  his  stick,  you  mean?  "  Lady  Mary 
gasped,  horrified,  and  unable  to  prevent  herself  being 
influenced  by  the  old  servant's  terror. 

He  rose,  and  coming  to  the  bed,  leaned  over  and 
whispered  a  few  words,  words  that  filled  his  listener 
with  fear  such  as  she  had  never  known  before. 

"  No,  no !  Not  with  his  stick !  A  Christian  would 
kill  a  dog  with  a  stick.  He — he  took  him  up  in  his 
hands  as  if  he  had  been  a  man  and  choked  him !  '* 


CHAPTER  XI 


ALL  night  the  poor  old  lady  was  awake,  her  mind 
beating  like  a  pendulum  from  side  to  side.  Should 
she  tell  Charles  about  this  most  atrocious  business  of 
the  little  dog,  or  should  she  not?  She  had  never  in- 
tended to  tell  him  about  Mrs.  Cuthbertson,  for  she  felt 
that  she  had  no  right  to  give  her  away,  as  the  saying 
goes.  Mrs.  Cuthbertson  was  an  outsider;  her  affairs, 
sad  and  interesting  though  they  were,  did  not  touch 
Yellowleaf  in  any  intimate  sense,  Aghassy  being,  Lady 
Mary  felt  with  unconscious  pride,  only  an  outsider, 
although  he  had  forced  his  way  in,  and  so  troubled  its 
very  depths. 

But  this  matter  of  Bruno  and  his  little  dog  was 
different.  Bruno,  far  more  than  Aghassy,  belonged  to 
Lady  Mary,  and  was  a  part  of  her  life.  She  paid  him 
for  his  services,  but  for  his  friendship  and  affection  she 
and  her  family,  she  knew,  could  never  pay  him  by  mere 
money;  his  reward  must  be  in  their  sympathy  in  his 
joys  and  his  sorrows,  and  this  manner  of  the  little  dog 
could  not  by  them  be  disregarded.  But  Charles! 
Charles  Thorn,  with  his  wild  and  dangerous  temper! 
Would  it  be  safe  to  tell  him  ?  Sometimes,  during  that 
long  night,  the  silver-voiced  clock  on  the  mantelpiece 
said,  "  Yes,  tell  him,"  and  sometimes  it  said  warningly, 
"  No,  don't  tell  him." 

So  that  when  Lady  Mary  Dampierre  woke  up  in 

135 


136  YELLOWLEAF 

the  morning  her  night  had  been  so  troubled,  her  sleep 
so  broken,  that  there  was  in  her  old  face  a  change  only 
to  be  expressed  by  the  word  awful  in  its  right  sense. 
Even  the  hard-visaged,  hard-hearted,  tough-nerved 
Drake  was  alarmed  by  the  sight  of  her  old  mistress's 
face,  and  alarmed  by  the  sound  of  her  old  mistress's 
voice. 

"  You  haven't  slept,  My  Lady ;  I  know  you  haven't," 
the  woman  said  almost  fiercely ;  "  and  I  don't  hardly 
think  you'd  ought  to  get  up." 

"  Oh,  Drake,  my  poor  Drake,"  Lady  Mary  groaned, 
"  you  mean  you  do  think  I  ought  not  to  get  up !  Well, 
perhaps  you're  right.  The  marrow  in  my  bones  seems 
to  have  melted,  and  my  muscles  are  made  of  tallow. 
Yes,  I'll  stay  in  bed  to-day." 

Lady  Mary's  staying  in  bed  was  an  event  so  unusual 
as  to  partake  of  the  alarming.  Shortly  after  her  an- 
nouncement Lily  came  in,  followed  by  Jim,  anxiety 
written  all  over  their  two  faces,  to  the  utter  swamping 
of  the  anxiety  and  resentment  that  had  been,  to  the  old 
lady's  shrewd  eyes,  very  visible  twelve  hours  before. 

"  But,  Mamma,"  Mrs.  Aghassy  murmured,  her  little 
face  ravaged  with  anxiety,  "  what's  the  matter  ?  Drake 
told  Bruno  that  you — that  you  are  not  at  all  well. 
Hadn't  I  better  telephone  for  Arthur  Hesketh?  " 

Lady  Mary  waved  her  hands — and  even  they  looked 
a  little  pale — in  repudiation  of  Arthur  Hesketh  and 
all  his  possible  works. 

"  All  doctors,"  she  murmured,  "  are  damned  fools, 
as  I  should  say  if  I  had  not  the  misfortune  to  be  an  old 
woman  and  an  old  lady — even  Arthur  Hesketh.  I 


YELLOWLEAF  137 

slept  badly,  Lily,  and  I  had  ugly  dreams;  but  why 
should  not  I,  at  my  age  ?  "  Then  she  added  with  a 
twinkle  in  her  old  eyes,  turning  to  Jim :  "  Darling,  it 
was  you  I  dreamt  about.  Ah,  Jimmy,  when  you  are 
so  like  your  father  as  you  are,  couldn't  you  manage, 
you  little  devil,  to  be  more  like  him  ?  " 

All  the  incipient,  wrong  kind  of  manhood  had 
been  frightened  out  of  the  boy  by  the  news  of  his 
grandmother's  illness,  and  his  funny  little  eyes,  which 
the  night  before  at  dinner  had  been  so  full  of  mannish 
pretensions  and  tyranny,  were  now  the  frightened, 
near- to- tears  eyes  of  a  loving  child. 

"  Oh,  Granny,"  he  said,  "  are  you  all  right?  "• 

She  smiled  at  him,  her  long  lashes  flickering  with" 
tender  amusement.  "  Yes,  my  darling.  Your  poor  old 
grandmother  is  too  tough  to  be  killed  by  the  bad  dreams 
of  a  single  night  Jimmy — Jinks — suppose  I  had  been 
very  ill,  would  you  really  have  minded,  my  son?  " 

Jimmy  frowned  with  embarrassment,  and  his  pulpy 
nouth  puckered  in  a  babyish  way  that  somehow 
cheered  the  tormented  hearts  of  the  two  women. 

"  Oh,  Grandmamma,"  he  said,  "  you  know  I  should 
— would — should " 

Lady  Mary  held  out  a  hot,  dry  little  hand  and  took 
hold  of  his  young,  soft,  warm  one.  "  You  have  been 
a  beastly  boy  of  late,"  she  said,  "  a  selfish  little  monster, 
and  I  have  been  ashamed  of  you.  My  son,  James 
Geoffrey  Dampierre,  your  father,  would  have  cut  out 
his  tongue  rather  than  speak  to  me  as  I  had  the  misery 
of  hearing  you  speak  to  your  mother  the  night  before 
last." 


138  YELLOWLEAF 

Young  Jim  blurted  out  something  about  being 

sorry ;  and  wishing  he  had  not  done  it ;  and — and 

Then  he  broke  down  and,  to  the  infinite  relief  and 
thanksgiving  of  the  old  woman  and  the  young  one, 
babyish  tears  crowded  into  his  eyes  and  rolled  down 
his  childish  cheeks,  while  his  lips  quivered  in  unre- 
strained, grotesque  grief,  curling  back  like  an  unhappy 
baby's.  Lady  Mary  and  Lily  were  both  much  happier, 
such  being  the  nature  of  women,  after  this  episode. 
Jim  seemed  to  have  come  back  to  them,  to  have  grown 
nearer,  to  be  a  more  palpable,  understandable  boy, 
than  he  had  been  for  months;  and  as  to  him  himself,  he 
was  still  young  enough  and  simple  enough  to  feel  the 
happier  for  his  breakdown  in  his  progression  towards 
the  selfishness  of  full  manhood. 

In  the  end  Lady  Mary  did  not  tell  Thorn  about 
the  little  dog;  and  this  was  not  because  she  feared  an 
outburst  of  justifiable  rage  from  him,  although  that 
possibility  was  very  present  in  her  mind,  but  because 
in  the  first  place  he  did  not  return  until  two  days  later, 
owing  to  some  sudden  bit  of  business  a  Oving-Wellow, 
and  that  when  he  did  come  he  had  not  been  in  the  house 
five  minutes  before  things  were  taken  out  of  the  old 
lady's  hands  in  a  very  singular  and  surprising  way. 

She  had  been  in  bed  for  two  days,  less  because  she 
felt  ill  than  because  it  was  the  only  way  in  which  she 
could  avoid  seeing  Aghassy. 

The  two  days  had  passed  on  the  whole  rather 
pleasantly,  for  Aghassy  had  been  at  Windsor  playing 
before  some  guests  of  the  King  and  Queen,  and  then 
gone  on  to  spend  a  day  with  some  old  friends  near 


YELLOWLEAF  139 

Maidenhead ;  and  to  everybody's  surprise,  the  "  mag- 
got "  had  asked  for  leave  to  go  to  Norwich  to  see  his 
mother,  who,  ic  appears,  was  not  well.  So  for  twenty- 
four  hours  the  two  women  and  Jimmy  were  by  them- 
selves. It  was  a  very  stormy  day,  and  they  felt  com- 
pletely shut  away  from  the  world,  and  Jimmy,  who  had 
been  thoroughly  frightened  about  his  grandmother, 
and  who  could  not  get  used  to  the  sight  of  that  intrepid 
old  warrior  in  bed,  seemed  to  have  gone  back  to  the 
days  before  Aghassy's  coming,  and  was  gentle,  and 
simple,  and  affectionate.  Of  his  own  free  will  he 
telephoned  to  Mr.  Percy  Randall,  putting  off  their 
little  festivity  on  the  grounds  of  his  grandmother's  ill- 
ness; and  the  question  of  his  week-end  at  the  "  Bee- 
hive "  had  been  tacitly  dropped  by  everybody. 

That  last  afternoon  of  Thorn's  absence  the  boy 
had  brought  his  sketches  and  attempts  at  pictures  down 
to  his  grandmother's  room,  and  accepted  the  admira- 
tion and  criticism  of  the  two  women  very  sweetly.  He 
had  undoubtedly  a  good  deal  of  talent,  and  there  was  a 
rough  strength  in  his  uncouth  attempts  at  composition 
that  pleased  Lady  Mary  very  much.  For  she  knew 
^hout  pictures,  though  not  very  profoundly,  and  had 
loved  them  all  her  life. 

Lily  went  out  early  in  the  afternoon  in  her  car, 
and  bought  all  sorts  of  cakes  and  chocolates,  so  that 
tea  was  a  kind  of  high  festival;  and  Jimmy  stuffed 
himself  with  such  childish  greed,  and  such  a  disregard 
of  possible  consequences,  that  his  mother  and  grand- 
mother kept  exchanging  glances  of  delight  and  relief. 
After  all  he  wasn't  so  very  grown-up! 


i4o  YELLOWLEAF 

Aghassy  was  to  be  back  before  dinner,  and  Lady 
Mary  had  made  up  her  mind  to  get  up  before  he  came ; 
so  after  tea  Jimmy  and  his  mother  carried  his  sketches 
and  canvasses  upstairs,  talking  happily  together,  and 
the  old  lady  rang  for  Drake.  That  grim  functionary 
knew  about  the  little  dog;  all  the  servants  knew, 
but  neither  Lily  nor  Jim  had  been  told.  Drake  for 
some  reason,  possibly  because  she  detested  Bruno,  was 
a  strong  partisan  of  Aghassy,  and  it  was  characteristic 
of  the  woman  that  she  had  hated  the  poor  little  Risotto 
because  not  he,  but  his  predecessor,  Polenta,  had  once 
made  a  tentative  snap  at  her  very  unalluring  ankles. 

"  Bruno,"  she  remarked,  as  she  pinned  a  piece  of 
priceless  old  lace  over  her  mistress's  hair,  "  has  been 
going  on  like  anything  again  about  his  nawsty  little 
dog.  It's  my  belief  he'd  like  to  do  the  master  an  injury 
if  he  could!" 

"  Nonsense,  Drake !  "    Lady  Mary  spoke  sharply. 

The  woman  sniffed.  "  Beg  pardon,  My  Lady,  I'm 
sure,"  she  said  resentfully,  "  but  I'm  sure  you'd  think 
so  yourself  if  you  could  'ear  the  way  he's  going  on. 
No  doubt  the  nawsty  little  brute  tried  to  bite  the 
master,  the  same  as  the  other  one  did  me.  All  those 
little  yellow  dogs  'as  'orrid  tempers ! " 

Lady  Mary  wished  to  be  installed  in  her  Corner 
before  Aghassy  got  back,  so  she  now  rang  for  Bruno 
to  wheel  her  into  the  drawing-room.  "  I  would  not 
say  any  more  about  poor  little  Risotto,  Bruno,"  she 
suggested  kindly  as  he  adjusted  her  embroidery  frame. 

The  old  man  raised  his  heavy,  mournful  brown 
eyes,  "  Eccellenza,  I  am  sorry.  It's  Drake  who  has 


YELLOWLEAF  141 

been  telling  you,  but  she  goaded  me  into  it  with  her 
praising  up  master,  and  saying  evil  things  about  my 
little  dog.  She's  a  woman,"  he  added  in  Italian,  clos- 
ing the  subject  with  a  very  injurious  Italian  epithet, 
"  without  education." 

II 

Lily  and  Jim  came  down  a  few  minutes  later  as 
they  had  gone  upstairs,  together,  and  the  old  lady's 
heart  drew  up  in  her  breast  as  she  saw  how  happy  and 
relieved  her  daughter-in-law  looked.  Jimmy,  who  of 
late  had  been  smoking  a  good  deal,  lit  a  cigarette  now, 
with  a  glance  at  his  grandmother,  and  sat  down. 

"  Jinks,"  the  old  lady  said,  "  too  much  of  that,  you 
know,  is  bad." 

He  grinned  a  cheerful  boyish  grin.  "  Oh,  grand- 
mother, everybody  smokes!  Jacques  says  it's  very 
good  for  the  nerves." 

Lily  rose,  and  going  to  him  bent  down  and  kissed 
him,  She  was  looking  extremely  pretty,  for  she  wore 
for  the  first  time  a  delightful  shell-pink  tea-gown,  whose 
cut  and  colour  were  exactly  right  for  her.  Lady  Mary 
knew  that  it  was  put  on  in  order  that  she  might  please 
the  eyes  of  her  son. 

"  Jim,"  she  said  coaxingly,  her  small  hands  patting 
his  shoulders,  "  throw  it  away ;  don't  smoke  so  much. 
Jacques  may  be  right;  they  probably  are  good  for  his 
nerves — but — if  you  only  knew  how  sick  I  am  of  the 
smell!  Sometimes  I  feel  as  if  my  nose  was  full  of  it, 
and  I  just  hate  it" 

The  boy  stared  at  her.  "  Good  gracious,  Mother !  " 
he  cried,  "why  did  you  never  say  so  before?"  He 


142  YELLOWLEAF 

threw  his  cigarette  into  the  big  hearth,  where  a  fire  was 
burning.  "  Why  don't  you  tell  Jacques?  He  smokes 
like  a  furnace  all  over  the  house,  and  I'm  sure  he 
wouldn't  if  he  knew  you  didn't  like  it" 

The  light  and  colour  seemed  to  ebb  away  from  her 
face,  and  she  went  to  her  chair.  "  No,  no !  "  she  said. 
"  I  couldn't  tell  Jacques,  and  mind  you  don't  say  a 
word  about  it  to  him.  Only  I  shall  really  be  grateful, 
Jinks  dear,  quite  as  much  for  my  own  sake  as  for 
yours,  if  you  will  smoke  less." 

Just  then  Thorn  arrived,  not  to  dine,  but  to  tell 
his  aunt  the  result  of  his  work  at  Oving-Wellow. 
He  at  once  felt  the  change  in  the  atmosphere,  and 
slapped  Jim  heartily  on  the  back  and  smiled  at  him, 
that  sincere,  heart- felt  smile  that  softened  and  sweet- 
ened his  odd  rugged  face. 

'  You  look — very  well,  Lily,"  he  then  said. 

She  blushed,  and  Jim  saw  it.  "  She's  dressed  up  in 
honour  of  Jacques'  return !  "  the  boy  cried  delightedly. 

"  Where's  Aghassy  been? "  Thorn  asked,  while 
Lady  Mary  and  Lily  exchanged  a  look  that  meant 
"how  like  a  boy!" 

It  was  Lady  Mary  who  explained  Aghassy's  ab- 
sence; and  then,  while  Lily  surprised  him  with  the 
news  that  his  aunt  had  been  in  bed  for  two  days,  the 
door  opened  and  the  "  maggot "  came  in  again,  look- 
ing, it  struck  them  all,  rather  more  of  a  worm  than 
usual,  for  he  had  a  cold,  and  his  nose  was  red  and 
his  eyes  watery,  these  worm-like  manifestations  not 
improving  his  appearance. 

In  spite  of  this,  however,  he  came  within  a  hair's- 


YELLOWLEAF  143 

breadth  of  being  kissed  by  Lady  Mary  as  he  sat  down 
by  her,  after  shaking  hands,  for  what  he  said  was :  "  I 
—shall  have  to  ask  Mrs.  Aghassy  to  look  out  for  a  new 
tutor  for  Jim." 

If  he  had  brought  the  moon  in  on  a  plate  it  could 
not  have  caused  more  astonishment  than  did  this  simple 
statement. 

Lily,  Jim,  and  Charles  Thorn  burst  into  a  chorus 
of  questions,  but  Lady  Mary,  after  the  first  shock, 
smelt  a  rat;  in  other  words,  she  knew  that  her  clever 
enemy  was  doing  her  out,  through  this  move,  of  her 
revenge.  He  was  in  her  power,  and  he  was  obliged 
to  give  way  in  the  matter  of  the  "  maggot,"  but  her 
conquest  was  robbed  of  most  of  its  glory  by  the  way 
in  which  he  had  done  it. 

While  Martin  was  explaining  that,  whereas  his 
mother  was  not  seriously  ill,  she  wished  him  to  stay 
in  Norwich  with  her;  that  for  a  long  time  he  had 
been  thinking  he  ought  to  be  near  her;  and  that  his 
shock  at  her  condition  had  urged  him  to  this  sudden 
and  painful  determination — while  all  these  incon- 
gruous reasons  were  being  offered  one  after  the  other 
in  the  nervous  haste  common  to  honest  people  when 
forced  into  unpleasant  circumstances  of  duplicity, 
Lady  Mary  watched  Thorn's  face.  He  was  evidently 
puzzled,  but  said  nothing,  and  when  a  moment  later 
Aghassy  came  in,  it  was  Jim  who,  with  real  regret, 
told  him  the  news.  Lady  Mary,  vexed  though  she  was 
by  being  done  out  of  her  just  revenge,  was  obliged  to 
concede  to  him  her  sincere  admiration  for  the  manner 
in  which  he  went  through  what  she  knew  to  be  his  part ; 
he  did  not  make  the  mistake  of  appearing  too  sur- 


144  YELLOWLEAF 

prised,  nor  were  his  regrets  over  vociferous.  Lily  and 
her  son  accepted  in  perfect  good  faith  the  fact  that  he 
was  sorry  to  lose  Martin,  whom  he  liked,  but  that  he 
was  by  no  means  in  despair  over  the  misfortune;  and, 
in  the  middle  of  dinner,  to  which  he  had  pleasantly 
insisted  on  Thorn's  staying,  he  closed  the  subject  in  a 
masterly  way,  leaving  no  reason  why  it  should  ever  be 
opened  again,  by  saying  quietly :  "  I  hope,  Thorn,  that 
you  will  help  us  out  of  the  difficulty,  like  a  good  fellow, 
by  moving  back  into  your  old  quarters,  and  undertak- 
ing this  long-legged  loon  and  his  education." 

Charles  hesitated,  his  face  set  rather  grimly,  and, 
after  a  moment,  said  he  was  afraid  he  could  not  give 
up  his  rooms,  in  which  he  had  just  got  comfortably 
settled ;  but  Jimmy,  who  after  all  was  very  fond  of  him, 
added  his  voice  to  the  arguments,  urging  his  old  tutor 
to  come,  and  Lily,  when  ordered  good-naturedly  by 
her  husband  to  add  her  entreaties  to  theirs,  did  so  by 
saying  simply :  "  Don't  bother  him  now,  Jacques.  I 
know  he  will  come.  I  know  Charles." 

Then  Thorn  turned  helplessly  to  Lady  Mary  and 
asked  her  what  she  thought. 

"  I  think,"  the  old  woman  said,  meeting  Aghassy's 
eyes,  in  which  there  was  positively  a  laugh,  "  that 
Jacques  has  won  the  game." 

in 

Jacques  Aghassy  had  won  the  game,  and  Lady 
Mary  was  far  too  wily  to  lay  herself  open  to  any 
further  proof  of  it  by  saying  anything  more  about 
the  matter;  and  after  all,  her  point  was  won  as  well. 
Charles  Thorn  had  come  back — carting  all  his  books 


YELLOWLEAF  145 

and  other  possessions,  in  various  taxis — and  settled 
down  once  more  in  his  old  rooms,  and  the  reign  of 
Martin  was  a  thing  of  the  past,  leaving,  so  to  speak, 
only  the  faintest  rapidly  disappearing  tracks  on  the 
water.  The  new  regime  began  in  a  most  satisfactory 
way;  Jim  was  extremely  biddable  in  the  right  hands, 
and  Thorn's  were  the  right  ones;  hardly  a  month  had 
passed  before  the  boy  seemed  to  have  lost  all  his  alarm- 
ing, unpleasant  symptoms.  He  even  looked  better 
physically.  For  a  long  time  Lady  Mary  kept  her  watch- 
ful eye  very  wide  open  to  spy  out  the  first  signs  of 
any  interference  or  opposition  on  Aghassy's  part,  but 
no  interference  nor  opposition  manifested  themselves. 

Aghassy,  who  was  extremely  busy,  practising  hours 
every  day,  and  keeping  himself  fit  with  riding  and 
walking,  seemed  perfectly  content  to  leave  the  boy 
entirely  in  Charles'  hands.  Once  he  even  said  to  his 
wife,  as  they  and  Lady  Mary  drank  their  tea,  a  fine 
afternoon,  on  the  lawn,  that  he  believed  she  had  been 
right  after  all  about  poor  Martin.  "  I  don't  believe  he 
was  strong  enough  for  Jinks,"  he  added  thoughtfully. 

His  face  was  in  full  sunlight  as  he  spoke,  and  there 
was  in  its  inscrutability  something  almost  inhuman, 
the  old  woman  thought,  as  she  glanced  at  him. 

They  were  in  August  now,  and  the  gaudy  late 
summer  flowers  were  in  all  their  crude  splendour. 

Lady  Mary,  who  sat  with  her  back  to  the  house, 
looked  down  the  long  garden  with  a  certain  little 
melancholy.  It  had  not  been  much  of  a  summer; 
twice  the  flowers  had  been  devastated  by  frost,  and 
torrential  rains  had  played  the  dickens  with  the  gravel 
paths;  but,  after  all,  it  had  been  a  summer  of  a  sort, 

10 


146  YELLOWLEAF 

and  now  it  was  on  its  last  legs,  she  thought  mourn- 
fully, for  there  is  nothing  sadder  than  autumn,  except 
spring. 

"  We  shan't  be  having  tea  out  of  doors  many  times 
again,"  Lily  said  gently.  "  I  am  glad  Picotee  will  be 
back  in  time  to  see  a  few  flowers.  I  have  missed  her." 

Picotee  had  gone  down  to  Britanny  with  one  of 
her  school- friends,  on  the  breaking-up  of  her  school, 
and  was  to  get  back  the  next  day.  As  the  two  women 
chatted  about  the  changes  they  expected  to  find  in  the 
child,  who  was  just  fifteen,  Lady  Mary  happened  to 
glance  again  at  Aghassy,  who  was  facing  the  house. 
Even  as  she  watched  him  she  knew  that  she  could 
never  put  into  words  what  the  look  in  his  face  was 
making  her  feel;  it  was  partly  admiration  for  his  im- 
mense imperturbability,  partly  something  Very  like 
hatred,  but  the  strongest  element  of  it  was  that  awful, 
cold  dread  she  had  felt  years  ago — that  day  in  the  hall 
when  she  had  her  arms  full  of  spring  flowers,  the  day 
that  Jim  and  Thorn  had  seen  the  first  crocus  of  the 
season. 

Aghassy  did  not  move ;  nothing  in  his  face  seemed 
to  strike  his  wife;  he  seemed  hardly  to  breathe,  in 
the  tenseness  of  the  moment;  it  was  as  if  the  feeling 
that  had  come  over  him  had  turned  him  to  stone.  He 
didn't  look  like  a  man ;  he  looked  like  a  statue.  For  a 
long,  long  moment  the  old  woman  sat  there  stricken 
with  a  hideous,  inexpressible  fear.  She  knew,  without 
turning  to  look,  what  the  man's  face  meant,  and  Lily's 
voice  sounded  at  once  miles  away  and  inordinately  loud. 

"  Oh,  here  is  Charles,"  Lily  said. 


CHAPTER  XII 


PICOTEE'S  return  the  next  day  brought  welcome 
diversion  to  everybody.  She  had  grown  taller,  and 
looked  less  monumental ;  her  ankles  were  thinning  sat- 
isfactorily, and  her  figure  beginning  to  bud  and  curve 
in  a  way  very  delightful  to  the  eye.  Her  thick,  black 
hair  was  now  doubled  up  in  two  pigtails,  and  nearly 
covered  with  a  black  bow  about  which  she  was  at  the 
same  time  extremely  proud,  and  very  uneasy,  fearing 
remarks  about  it.  Her  skirts,  she  said,  were  much  too 
long  for  a  girl  of  her  age,  for  "  she  was  beginning  to 
grow  up,"  and  she  wanted  stockings  with  silk  all  the 
way  up,  instead  of  those  deceitful  ones  that  turned  into 
lisle  thread  in  the  middle  of  the  calf.  But  when  her 
grandmother  told  her  that  her  birthday  present  for  her 
was  to  be  two  new  frocks,  the  maiden  replied  with  dis- 
dain that  she  wished  Grandmamma  had  sent  her  the 
money  when  she  was  with  Madame  de  Kergouel  so 
that  she  might  have  laid  it  out  in  Paris,  on  her  way 
home.  "  I  couldn't  possibly  go  back  in  the  autumn 
with  English  clothes,  you  know,"  she  explained  loftily. 
She,  too,  was  going  through  the  less  pleasant  stages  of 
development  incidental  to  that  much  belauded  mile- 
stone where  childhood  ends  and  womanhood  begins, 
and  now  it  was  young  Jimmy  who  disapproved  of  the 
airs  and  graces  that  in  himself  had  caused  such  trouble. 
He  insisted  on  calling  her  "  the  kid,"  and  teased  her 

14? 


H8  YELLOWLEAF 

inordinately  over  the  slight  French  accent  that  was 
one  of  her  new  belongings. 

However,  under  the  influence  of  Aghassy 's  un- 
broken system  of  pleasant  non-interference,  the  times 
were  good,  and  as  the  youngsters  got  used  to  each 
other  they  settled  down  to  their  old  terms  of  affection- 
ate comradeship,  and  spent  long  hours  together  ex- 
plaining to  each  other  their  newly  acquired  views  on 
life,  and  such  trifles. 

Picotee,  whose  devotion  to  Aghassy  had  never 
faltered,  made  herself  rather  a  nuisance,  at  first,  by 
pursuing  him  into  the  fastness  of  his  music-room,  and 
trying  to  lure  him  out  of  that  sanctuary;  but  presently 
it  became  known  that  his  unusual  absorption  in  his 
work  meant  that  he  had  decided  to  go  to  America  for 
a  six-weeks'  tour  in  October,  and  she  left  him  in  peace. 

Lady  Mary's  relief  at  this  news  about  America  was 
immense,  and  Thorn  absolutely  changed  colour  with 
satisfaction  when  the  old  lady  told  him;  but  the  two 
exchanged  no  very  vital  remarks  about  it. 

Lady  Mary  found  it  the  better  part  of  valour  to 
say  as  little  as  possible  about  Aghassy  to  her  nephew. 
Charles  was  perfectly  polite  to  Aghassy,  and  did  his 
best  to  meet  that  strategist  half-way  in  his  pleasant  ad- 
vances; but  Thorn's  best  in  this  matter  was  a  sorry  one, 
and  of  late  he  had  avoided  his  cousin's  husband  more 
carefully  than  ever,  and  Lady  Mary,  though  they  had 
never  discussed  the  matter,  knew  from  Bruno  why  this 
was.  Charles  had  been  told  the  story  of  the  little  dog. 
Apparently  he  had  heard  something  vague  about  it 
from  one  of  the  servants,  and  had  questioned  Bruno, 
who  told  him  the  whole  thing. 


YELLOWLEAF  149 

"  The  Signer  Thorn  was  very  angry,  Eccellenza," 
the  old  man  said.  "  He,  too,  is  terrible  when  he  is 
angry."  After  which  he  added  with  an  irrepressible 
smile :  "  With  respect  speaking,  I  could  not  tell  Your 
Excellency  what  it  was  he  said.  It  was  worse  than  any- 
thing /  ever  said — but  I  agreed  with  every  word  of  it." 

The  weeks  passed  by,  and  when  the  first  of  October 
arrived,  wet,  and  bedraggled,  and  muddy,  Aghassy  had 
never  made  the  slightest  reference  direct  or  indirect  to 
the  unfortunate  mother  of  Theodore,  the  gift  of  God, 
or  to  the  circumstances  of  Martin's  deposition  and 
Charles's  return  to  power.  His  manner  had  changed 
in  no  way  since  the  pre-Cuthbertson  days;  nearly  every 
evening  he  played  for  an  hour  in  the  drawing-room ;  he 
was  pleasant  to  everyone  without  being  too  pleasant, 
which  is  always  a  sign  of  strength ;  and  the  only  changes 
in  his  mode  of  life  were  amply  explained  by  the  fact 
of  his  great  pre-occupation  with  his  musical  studies  in 
view  of  his  tour  in  America. 

II 

Picotee  had  been  taken  over  to  Paris,  and  placed  in 
the  hands  of  Madame  Lambert,  by  her  devoted  step- 
father, only  a  few  days  before,  and  the  house  seemed 
very  quiet  without  her  voice  and  loud,  cheerful  foot- 
steps, for  she  was  not,  like  Jim,  of  the  soft-footed 
half  of  humanity. 

During  Aghassy's  absence  the  question  had  chanced 
to  come  up  of  a  studio  for  Jim.  There  were  plenty  of 
rooms  in  the  house  that  would  do,  and  never  be  missed, 
and  the  boy  was  fired  with  enthusiasm  and  delight  by 


150  YELLOWLEAF 

the  idea.  Lady  Mary,  who  was  a  firm  believer  in  the 
advisability  of  taking  the  bull  by  the  horns  immedi- 
ately on  entering  the  arena,  hardly  gave  Aghassy  time 
to  eat  his  soup,  the  evening  of  his  return,  before  grab- 
bing him,  so  to  speak,  and  trying  her  strength.  The 
result  was  that  she  felt  very  much  like  what  a  man 
might  have  felt  on  having  literally  seized  a  bull  in  this 
high-handed  style,  expecting  mighty  resistance,  and 
finding  the  bull  melt  to  the  ground  in  his  hands,  with 
a  pleasant  smile.  It  appeared  that  Aghassy  thought 
that  nothing  could  be  better  than  for  either  of  the 
rooms  mentioned  to  be  prepared  as  she  suggested! 
Lady  Mary's  relief  expressed  itself  in  a  gush  of  friend- 
liness towards  the  man  about  whom  her  feelings  were 
so  mixed,  although  it  was  in  fact  neither  his  house, 
nor  his  wife's,  but  her  own;  so,  although  there  was 
nothing  on  earth  to  prevent  her  having  the  room  ar- 
ranged as  a  bear-pit  if  she  wanted  to,  she  thanked  him 
gratefully  for  his  agreement,  adding :  "  I  will  have  the 
room  painted  and  arranged  just  as  he  likes  it  for  his 
birthday.  You  will  like  that,  won't  you,  Jinks  ?  "  And 
then,  after  a  second,  struck  by  something  in  Aghassy's 
face,  her  heart  sank.  He  had  smiled,  but  she  had  seen 
something  strange,  if  not  a  little  sinister,  in  his  smile, 
and  there  was  also  in  it  a  momentary  but  decided  look 
of  triumph.  Bruno,  as  well,  she  observed,  had  noticed 
this  quality;  but  neither  Thorn  nor  Lily  seemed  to  be 
feeling  anything  but  relief  at  Aghassy's  manner,  and 
young  Jim's  eager-voiced  plans  for  his  studio  covered 
the  pause  and  went  on  pleasantly  throughout  the  meal. 
Lady  Mary  asked  Thorn  next  day  if  he  had  not 


YELLOWLEAF  151 

been  surprised  by  Aghassy's  agreeing  so  pleasantly  to 
the  plan. 

"No,"  said  Thorn;  adding  abruptly:  "He  could 
not  surprise  me.  Unless  he  tried  not  being  surprising, 
for  a  change!  Thank  God  he's  going  away."  His 
face  lowered  as  it  always  did  at  the  mention  of  his 
pupil's  stepfather,  and  Lady  Mary  hastily  changed  the 
subject,  because  she  dreaded,  with  a  ridiculous  and  in- 
comprehensible dread,  his  mentioning  the  matter  of 
the  little  dog. 

One  of  Aghassy's  few  tactical  mistakes  had  been  to 
bring  home,  one  afternoon  a  few  weeks  after  the  epi- 
sode, a  well-bred  little  Irish  terrier,  which  he  gave,  in 
an  off-hand  way  before  both  the  children,  to  Bruno. 
Picotee,  who  was  as  sharp  as  a  razor,  had  noticed 
something  strange  in  the  old  butler's  manner,  and 
mentioned  it  to  her  grandmother.  "  Very  kind  of 
Jacques  to  give  Bruno  such  a  lovely  little  dog !  "  she 
said.  "  He's  an  ungrateful  old  man,  Bruno.  I  don't 
like  Italians;  I  prefer  the  French." 

"  What  did  Bruno  say?  "  Lady  Mary  asked,  plying 
her  needle  industriously. 

The  child  shrugged  her  large  shoulders  in  close 
imitation  of  some  pliable  little  Frenchwoman.  "  Oh, 
I  don't  know.  He  was  perfectly  polite.  He  said 

'  thank  you,'  and  so  on ;  but  he  looked "  She 

broke  off.  "  I  don't  quite  know  how  he  looked,  but 
anyhow,  he  wasn't  like  someone  who  had  just  had  a 
present!  I  suppose,"  she  added  after  a  minute,  "he 
was  angry  because  poor  Jacques  killed  that  horrid 
Risotto,  As  if  Jacques  could  help  it! " 


152  YELLOWLEAF 

"  Oh,"  said  Lady  Mary,  looking  up,  "  so  Jacques 
killed  his  little  dog?" 

"Why,  Grandmamma,  didn't  you  know?  Yes, 
ages  ago,  before  I  came  home.  Jim  told  me." 

Lady  Mary  thought,  when  left  alone,  that  the  house 
seemed  in  a  way  to  be  haunted  by  the  poor  little,  mis- 
shapen, vulgar,  yellow  dog,  so  many  people  seemed  to 
be  thinking  about  the  creature ;  and  yet,  somehow,  only 
Picotee  had  mentioned  it  to  her.  She  did  not  know 
indeed  whether  Lily  had  ever  heard  either  the  true 
version  or  the  false  one  of  the  story. 

in 

And  now  the  child  had  gone  back  to  school; 
Aghassy  was  motoring  down  to  Southampton  on  his 
way  to  America  the  next  day  but  one;  and  Lady 
Mary  sat  alone  by  the  fire,  late  in  the  afternoon, 
thinking  about  all  these  things  and  trying  to  be  as 
happy  and  as  much  at  ease  as  she  felt  she  ought  to  be. 
The  "  maggot  "  had  gone ;  Jim  once  more  the  old  Jim, 
he  was  to  have  the  studio ;  and  for  two  months  Aghassy 
would  be  away  and  the  other  four  left  to  themselves, 
and  their  own  innocent,  peaceful  devices.  Presently 
Lily  came  in  with  a  large  package  of  patterns  of 
chintzes  for  the  new  room.  Its  young  lord  wanted 
birds,  and  there  was  one  beautiful  one  of  parrots,  and 
another  whereon  caracoled  in  dreadfully  acrobatic  atti- 
tudes a  fine  family  of  peacocks.  Lady  Mary  preferred 
the  peacocks,  but  Mrs.  Aghassy  feared  that  the  austere- 
minded  young  artist  would  find  them  a  little  flamboyant. 

"  I  met  Arthur  Hesketh,"  she  went  on,  holding  up 


YELLOWLEAF  153 

a  chintz  and  looking  at  it  with  her  head  on  one  side. 
"  I  met  him  in  Regent  Street,  and  he  had  just  seen 
Jacques.  Jacques  has  been  buying  good-bye  presents 
for  everybody.  Isn't  he  kind,  really,  Mamma,  after 
all  ?  "  she  added  with  ingenuous  eagerness. 

Lady  Mary  always  felt  a  brute  in  pinning  her 
daughter-in-law  down  in  any  way,  but  she  could  not 
resist  this  opening. 

"  His  presents  are  always  delightful,"  she  conceded ; 
adding,  thus  turning  her  speech  into  a  scorpion :  "  But 
why  do  you  say  '  after  all,'  Lily  ?  " 

Mrs.  Aghassy  rose  and  busied  herself  with  the  fire, 
struggling  to  put  on  a  very  big  piece  of  ship-wood. 
She  did  not  know  quite  what  to  answer,  it  was  plain, 
so  she  said  nothing,  which  is  a  more  efficacious  manner 
of  avoiding  a  question  than  ordinary,  articulate  people 
believe,  and  after  a  moment  she  came  back  and  went 
on  with  her  little  budget  of  news.  "  Arthur  Hesketh 
is  going  to  motor  down  to  Southampton  with  Jacques 
on  Wednesday,"  she  said.  "  Jacques  asked  him  be- 
cause he  thought  he  looked  tired,  and  they're  going  to 
take  Jim." 

Lady  Mary  nodded.  "  That's  a  good  plan.  It's  a 
beautiful  run  and  will  do  the  boy  good.  Also,  it  will 
give  you  a  little  rest  about  that  precious  studio  of  his 
— the  impatient  young  monkey!  Arthur  has  not  seen 
him  for  some  time,"  she  went  on.  "  I  am  sure  he  will 
think  he's  looking  very  much  better." 

And  then  Jim  came  in  from  a  walk  with  Thorn,  and 
swept  away  both  chintzes  with  magnificent  disdain — 
no  chintzes  for  him.  "  It  is  going  to  be  a  studio  and 


154  YELLOWLEAF 

not  a  boudoir,"  he  declared  in  a  very  masculine  manner. 
He  would  have  a  few  rush-bottomed  chairs,  and,  if 
his  mother  insisted  on  a  Chesterfield,  as  he  knew  she 
would,  there  was  only  one  kind  he  would  deign  to 
accept,  and  that  was  a  green  leather  one. 

Early  on  Wednesday  morning  the  traveller  set  out. 
He  came  with  his  wife  into  Lady  Mary's  room  to  say 
good-bye  to  her,  very  deferentially  kissing  her  hand 
and  smiling.  "  I  shall  be  back  in  two  months,"  he  said, 
"and  hope  to  find  you  as  happy  as  you  look  this  morning. 
Here  is  a  little  present  that  I  found  the  other  day  and 
thought  you  might  like.  Don't  open  it  till  I  have  gone." 

She  did  not  want  his  presents,  the  poor  baffled  old 
woman;  but  she  knew  his  love  for  little  surprise  gifts, 
and  though  she  would  have  liked  to  strangle  him  with 
regard  to  other  things,  she  had  not  the  heart  to  hurt 
him  about  this  queer  little  fad  of  his.  So  she  took  the 
little  shagreen  box  and  thanked  him  as  gratefully  as 
she  could.  "  Tell  Arthur  Hesketh  to  come  back  with 
Jim,"  she  said,  as  Aghassy  reached  the  door.  "  I  want 
to  ask  him  what  he  thinks  of  the  boy,  and  I  haven't 
seen  him  for  months." 

Aghassy  turned,  one  hand  on  his  wife's  shoulder. 
"  He's  an  extremely  busy  man,  of  course,"  was  all  he 
said.  Then  Jimmy  appeared  in  a  long  woolly  brown 
coat,  and  a  long  woolly  white  muffler,  squeezing  his 
fingers  into  a  new  pair  of  gloves,  to  kiss  his  grand- 
mother good-bye.  He  was  clearly  looking  forward 
to  the  long  drive,  and  Lady  Mary  for  some  reason 
was  moved  to  send  a  message  to  Doctor  Hesketh  by 
him  as  well. 


YELLOWLEAF  155 

The  boy  nodded.  "  I  will  tell  him,  Grandmother. 
We  are  stopping  at  Harley  Street,  you  know,  to  pick 
him  up.  I  will  try  to  make  him  come  back  to  dinner, 
shall  I  ?  "  and  he  was  gone. 

Lady  Mary  rose  and,  the  day  being  sunny,  though 
cold,  had  herself  wheeled  out  into  the  glass  gallery, 
which  was  heated  by  pipes,  and  Lily  joining  her,  they 
settled  down  for  a  comfortable  morning  at  needle- 
work. It  was  very  pleasant  sitting  there,  and  the  sun 
cast  a  cheerful  little  glow  through  the  glass  on  the 
Italian  bricks  of  the  rug-covered  floor,  giving  a  delu- 
sion of  solar  warmth. 

"  They'll  have  a  delightful  ride  down,"  Lily  said 
after  a  while.  "  Dear  old  Jinks!  He  was  pleased. 
It  was  kind  of  Jacques  to  ask  Arthur !  He's  looking 
very  fagged  and  tired,  and  I  am  glad  he  could  get 
the  day  off." 

Lady  Mary  nodded.  Her  heart  was  high  as  the 
time  passed  and  she  knew  that  the  car  was  carrying 
her  enemy  rapidly  farther  away.  She  liked  to  think 
of  him  hurrying  along  towards  the  steamer;  she  liked 
to  think  of  him  on  the  steamer,  surrounded  by  deep 
water,  heading  for  New  York ;  and  she  was  not  guilt- 
less of  a  wicked  gleam  of  satisfaction  as  she  reflected 
that  he  was  not  a  particularly  good  sailor. 

Lily  was  busy  delicately  darning  her  own  and  the 
old  lady's  silk  stockings.  This  difficult  work  she  did 
with  skill  and  delicacy,  and  was  innocently  proud  of 
the  invisibility  of  her  darns.  Towards  half-past  eleven 
she  was  leaning  over  in  her  chair,  a  web-like  silver-grey 
stocking  drawn  over  her  arm  as  she  pointed  out  to 


156  YELLOWLEAF 

Lady  Mary  with  what  difficulty  one  could  see  where 
the  holes  had  been.  "  You  would  hardly  guess  there 
had  been  an  awful  one  just  there,"  she  said,  pointing 
with  her  needle,  "  would  you  ?  " 

At  that  minute  the  door  opened  and  Bruno  came 
out,  his  face  very  anxious.  "  Eccellenza,"  he  said, 
"  something  has  happened — it's  very  strange " 

Lady  Mary,  always  very  fierce  when  frightened, 
asked  him  sharply  what  the  matter  was.  The  old  man 
drew  a  deep  breath. 

"  It's  Sir  Arthur  Hesketh,"  he  said,  "  on  the  tele- 
phone. He  wants  to  know  if  he  can  come  to  lunch 
to-day,  as  he  will  be  in  the  neighbourhood,  and — isn't 
very  busy." 

Lily  looked  round.  "  Arthur  Hesketh !  "  she  said, 
puzzled  but  not  alarmed. 

Lady  Mary  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Then  she 
said  quietly.  "  Say  yes,  Bruno.  Mrs.  Aghassy  and  I 
shall  be  delighted." 

The  old  man  threw  a  distressed  glance  at  her,  and 
withdrew.  A  moment  later  he  returned,  this  time  with 
a  telegram  sent  from  some  village  in  Hampshire.  The 
telegram  was  addressed  to  Lady  Mary,  and  it  said: 
"  I  am  taking  Jimmy  with  me  to  America.  Greetings. 
Jacques." 

IV 

"  DEAREST  MOTHER, 

"  Isn't  it  ripping?  I  am  going  with  Jacques.  He 
never  told  me  a  word,  and  he  went  and  bought  me  a 
beautiful  steamer  trunk,  and  a  dressing-case,  and  had 
Hemming  make  me  two  new  suits  of  clothes ;  and  I've 


YELLOWLEAF  157 

got  a  ripping  steamer-rug,  and  a  big  leather  cushion. 
You  never  saw  such  a  lot  of  things  in  your  life!  I 
am  so  excited  I  don't  know  how  to  hold  it  in,  and  I've 
only  a  few  minutes  to  write.  The  steamer  is  splendid, 
and  we've  got  a  big  deck-cabin  and  we're  going  to  sit 
at  the  Captain's  table.  And  it  all  seems  like  a  dream. 
I  can  hardly  believe  it  Jacques  is  a  corker!  Even 
when  we  did  not  go  to  Harley  Street  I  didn't  suspect 
anything,  because  he  told  me  he  had  had  a  telephone 
message  from  Doctor  Hesketh  just  before  leaving  the 
house,  saying  he  could  not  come — said  he  hadn't  men- 
tioned it  to  you  because  he  knew  you  would  fuss  about 
my  health,  catching  cold  or  something;  and  when  we 
got  on  board  he  took  me  into  the  cabin  and  showed  me 
the  trunk  and  dressing-case,  all  with  '  J.G.D.'  painted 
on,  and  told  me.  It's  exactly  like  a  fairy-tale.  There 
never  was  anybody  in  the  world  so  kind  as  Jacques.  I 
do  hope  he's  right  in  thinking  you  won't  mind,  though ! 
He's  wired,  he  says,  and  now  he's  writing  on  the  other 
side  of  this  table.  Everybody's  awfully  polite  to  him, 
and  all  the  passengers  point  him  out  to  each  other — 
damn  the  blot! — he's  an  awful  swell  and  no  mistake. 
Won't  Picotee  be  sold  ?  She  was  so  frightfully  grand 
about  Paris,  but  she's  never  been  to  America. 

"  Love  to  you  and  Gran.  We're  going  to  cable 
when  we  land.  Don't  worry  about  me.  I'll  do  every- 
thing Jacques  says  and  take  great  care  of  my  health. 

"  Your  loving  JINKS. 

"  I  nearly  forgot  Charles.  Please  give  him  my  love. 
Jacques  says  that  my  journey  is  for  my  seventeenth 
birthday." 


CHAPTER  XIII 


THE  following  Sunday  morning,  which  was  the 
fifth  of  October,  Lady  Mary  Dampierre's  butler  went 
to  Confession  in  the  little  church  down  the  hill.  It 
was  a  very  inclement  day ;  a  punishing  wind  swept  the 
streets,  and  rain  oozed  at  intervals  out  of  bulging  low 
clouds.  The  old  man,  his  umbrella  held  close  over  his 
head,  his  coat-collar  turned  up,  plodded  along  deep  in 
thought  that  was  plainly  of  a  painful  nature.  His 
face,  under  its  decent  bowler,  looked  thinner  and  older 
than  it  had  done  three  or  four  days  before;  and  his 
eyes  were  dulled,  as  the  eyes  of  monkeys  are  by  illness 
or  grief.  It  was  only  half-past  seven,  and  the  autumn 
dawn  had  been  dilatory,  and  as  he  crossed  the  little 
square  the  people  in  the  converging  lines  of  wor- 
shippers looked  to  his  weary  eyes,  all  sad  and  old, 
and  alien  like  himself.  Wild  horses  could  not  have 
torn  him  from  the  service  of  his  old  mistress,  and  yet 
there  were  days — and  this  was  one  of  them — when  he 
longed  with  an  actual  pain  for  Italy,  with  its  sun,  and 
its  friendly  skies,  and  the  beauty  of  its  architecture.  If 
he  had  been  in  Italy  he  could  have  heard  Mass  that 
morning,  say  in  Florence,  at  one  of  a  score  of  beauti- 
ful, romantic,  historically  rich  old  churches;  and  this 
was  an  ugly,  badly  constructed,  cheaply  built  church 
of  the  worst  period  of  the  last  century. 

Checking  his  thoughts  as  irreverent  and  ungrateful. 
158 


YELLOWLEAF  159 

the  old  servant  went  and  knelt  in  his  accustomed  corner. 
It  was  necessary  that  morning  for  him  to  confess, 
although  he  could  not  stay  for  Mass,  for  his  mental 
sins  had  been  many  and  grave  of  late,  and  their  weight 
was  more  than  he  could  bear.  So  he  said  his  prayers 
before  Confession  in  the  cold,  desolate  little  sanctuary, 
glad  to  see  that  only  one  person  would  be  before  him 
in  the  confessional,  a  small  hunch-backed  Latin  of 
some  kind,  whose  head  rolled  grotesquely  on  his 
shoulders  as  he  prayed. 

The  earliest  Mass  was  nearing  its  end,  and  new- 
comers for  the  second  one  were  filling  the  vacant  seats ; 
a  haggard  light  filled  the  grimy  windows;  the  feeble, 
bleating  voice  of  the  priest  reading  Mass  echoed  oddly 
in  the  half-empty  church.  Bruno  closed  his  eyes  to 
shut  out  distracting  thoughts  and  prayed  very  hard, 
for  he  had  much  to  set  in  order  before  his  turn  came  in 
the  confessional.  The  opening  of  the  door  startled  him 
in  his  prayers,  and  ht  looked  up.  A  woman  was  just 
coming  out,  a  handkerchief  dabbing  her  eyes,  her  face 
distorted  with  crying,  like  a  child's.  As  the  old  hunch- 
back took  her  place,  Bruno  found  himself  watching  this 
woman  as  she  sat  down  and  bent  over  her  beads.  He 
had  seen  her  before,  but  he  could  not  remember  where, 
and  her  presence  disturbed  him  oddly.  This  was  an- 
other sin  for  him  to  confess  when  his  turn  at  last  came. 

It  was  dark  and  stuffy  in  the  confessional ;  it  struck 
him  that  it  smelt  of  bad  consciences;  of  sins.  .  .  . 
When  he  came  out  a  few  minutes  later,  unweighted 
and  solaced,  as  if  he  had  left  a  tangible  load  in  the 
little  pen  with  the  curtain,  he  turned  back  towards  the 


160  YELLOWLEAF 

door  and  went  into  a  little  side-chapel,  where  there 
was  an  iron  stand  ablaze  with  votive  candles.  These 
candles  cost  one  penny,  or  twopence,  or  three-pence 
apiece,  according  to  the  size,  and,  taking  the  money 
from  his  shabby  little  purse,  the  old  servant  with  much 
care  chose  three  of  the  largest.  With  great  delicacy 
he  impaled  each  one  on  a  little  spike  and  set  them 
ablaze.  Then  he  went  into  the  little  chapel,  which  was 
dedicated  to  Our  Lady  of  the  Seven  Dolours,  and  again 
knelt  down.  One  candle  he  dedicated  to  his  only  living 
relation,  an  old  sister  of  his  who  lived  in  Siena;  one  to 
Lily  Aghassy,  whom  in  his  prayers  he  called  the  Sig- 
norina;  and  one  to  Lady  Mary;  and  for  each  of  these 
three  people  in  turn  he  prayed  hard  for  several  minutes 
to  the  Queen  of  the  Heaven,  who  once  upon  a  time 
had  been  a  simple  carpenter's  wife  in  Asia  Minor.  As 
he  rose  he  found  himself  face  to  face  with  the  tall 
woman  whom  he  had  seen  coming  out  of  the  confes- 
sional, and  to  his  surprise  she  was  plainly  waiting  for 
him.  She  was  no  longer  crying,  but  her  large,  hand- 
some face  looked  a  little  blurred  and  damp,  and  her 
lips  were  not  quite  steady  as  she  spoke  to  him. 

"  Surely,"  she  said,  "  you  are  the  gentleman  who 
opened  the  door  to  me  that  day  at  Lady  Mary 
Dampierre's " 

Bruno  answered  in  the  same  undertone :  "  I  am  the 
butler." 

"Are  you  staying  to  Communion?  "  she  said. 

He  shook  his  head.  "  No,  I  haven't  time  this 
morning.  I'm  coming  to-morrow."  As  he  spoke  he 
dipped  his  hand  in  the  holy  water  and  held  it  out 


YELLOWLEAF  161 

to  her.  She  touched  it  and  crossed  herself,  and  they 
went  out  into  the  rain  together. 

"  I'm  Mrs.  Cuthbertson,"  the  woman  said.  "  Do 
you  remember?  It's  quite  a  long  time  ago " 

Bruno  did  remember,  and,  what  was  more,  he  had 
always  felt  that  Mrs.  Cuthbertson's  call  had  somehow 
opened  an  epoch  of  unexpected  drama  at  Yellowleaf. 
He  gazed  at  her  for  a  moment,  and  then  said : 

"  Yes,  I  remember,"  and  opened  his  umbrella.  She 
was  evidently  in  distress  and  in  a  highly  nervous  condi- 
tion, for  she  was  wringing  her  hands  and  twisting  her 
fingers  in  a  way  that  must  have  hurt  them.  "  Will 
you  let  me  walk  with  you  a  little  way?  "  she  said.  "  I 
don't  want  to  do  anybody  any  harm,  I'm  sure,  but  I 
want  to  know " 

"  Perhaps,"  Bruno  answered,  "  you'd  better  carry 
the  umbrella,  you  being  so  much  larger  than  me " 

They  walked  on  together  through  the  thickening 
rain.  After  a  moment  the  woman  broke  out,  speak- 
ing quickly  and  deprecatingly. 

"  I've  only  seen  him  twice  since  that  day,"  she  said. 
"He  was  dreadfully  angry.  My  word!  I've  never 
seen  him  so  angry  before." 

She  shuddered,  and  Bruno  knew. 

"  You  mean  Mr.  Aghassy  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes.  The  old  lady  told  him  I'd  been,  and  he 
came  to  see  me  that  night.  I — oh ! — I  thought  he  was 
going  to  kill  me,  but  he  didn't;  and  I'm  sure  I  didn't 
do  any  harm." 

Bruno,  who  grasped  pretty  well  what  it  was,  looked 
at  her  pityingly.  "  Poveretta !  "  he  murmured  with 
ii 


162  YELLOWLEAF 

compassion.  It  was  on  his  way  home  from  seeing  her 
that  Aghassy  had  murdered  the  poor  little  dog. 

"  And  he's  only  been  once  since,  and  that  was  when 
Theodore  was  ill.  That  was  in  July." 

There  was  a  pause,  and  then  the  old  man,  who  very 
delicately  did  not  wish  to  ask  any  questions,  suggested 
gently  that  she  might  perhaps  tell  him  what  he  could  do 
for  her.  They  had  reached  the  top  of  the  hill,  where 
someone  had  built  a  covered  way  from  his  house  to  the 
curb,  and,  under  this  shelter,  they  came  to  a  standstill. 

"  I  want  to  know  where  he  is,"  the  woman  said. 
"  You  see,  it's  like  this.  There's  a  gentleman — a  com- 
mission-agent he  is — that  wants  me  to  marry  him. 
He's  fond  of  Theodore — that's  my  little  boy — and 
doesn't  blame  me  about — you  know — and  I  shouldn't 
mind  marrying  him,  for  I'm  pretty  lonely  and  it  makes 

me  feel  younger  to  have  him  round,  but "  she 

broke  off. 

"  I  should  think  so,"  the  old  man  said  in  a  very  kind 
voice,  "  that  would  be  a  good  plan,  and  you  can't — " 
he  hesitated — "be  innamorata  of  Meester  Aghassy 
any  more." 

Mrs.  Cuthbertson  gave  a  sudden,  harsh  laugh. 
"Fond  of  him!  I  should  think  not.  Suit  my  book 
best  never  to  set  eyes  on  him  again ;  but  I  don't  believe 
he'll  let  me  marry  Mr.  Piper !  " 

This  subtlety  would  have  defeated  most  Anglo- 
Saxons,  but  to  the  Latin  Bruno  it  was  a  trifle.  "  Ex- 
cuse my  asking  you,"  he  said  quietly,  "  but  either  it  is 
that  he  cares  still  for  you — and  a  man  might,"  he  added 
with  dignified  approval,  glancing  up  at  her  as  she 


YELLOWLEAF  163 

stood,  her  handsome  face  haloed  by  the  drooping 
umbrella,  "  or  it's  jealousy  without  love." 

The  woman  nodded.  "  Yes,  that's  it.  He  doesn't 
love  me,  but  he's  that  spiteful  that  he  can't  bear  to 
let  me  go." 

And  then  Bruno  had  his  great  idea.  Explaining 
that  Mr.  Aghassy  was  now  on  the  high  seas,  to  be 
gone  for  two  months,  he  invited  himself  to  go  and  see 
Mrs.  Cuthbertson  that  evening,  which  happened  to  be 
his  Sunday  evening  out.  And  on  her  agreeing  that 
this  would  be  a  very  satisfactory  move,  he  wrote  her 
address  down  on  his  little  old  pocket-book  and,  hailing 
her  bus  for  her,  helped  her  politely  to  mount  its  muddy 
step  and  took  off  his  hat  with  a  fine,  sweeping  gesture. 
As  he  went  on  home  he  thought  that  the  Fates  had  been 
good  to  him  that  morning,  that  through  this  chance 
meeting  he  had  found  the  end  of  a  very  valuable  clue; 
that  through  this  woman  he  could  learn  all  about 
Aghassy,  for  she  was  a  simple,  uncultivated  creature, 
whom  he  with  his  supple  Southern  mind  could  turn 
inside-out  like  a  glove,  and  knowledge  about  Aghassy, 
no  matter  how  come  by,  must,  he  felt  sure,  be  of  use  to 
Lady  Mary.  But  as  he  went  up  the  damp  garden-path 
he  suddenly  stood  still  with  dismay.  Doctor  Hesketh 
had  told  him  yesterday  that  Lady  Mary's  fainting-fit  a 
few  days  before,  on  the  arrival  of  Aghassy's  telegram, 
was  no  ordinary  fainting-fit,  but  a  very  alarming 
attack  of  heart- failure.  The  old  lady  was  to  be  on  no 
account  upset  or  distressed  about  anything,  and  even 
now  she  would  not  be  getting  up,  for  she  had  not  been 
out  of  her  bed  since  that  morning  when  the  news  came. 


164  YELLOWLEAF 

It  could  not,  then,  be  to  her  that  he  could  tell  his  dis- 
coveries about  Aghassy.  A  few  minutes  later  he  found 
Thorn  in  the  dining-room  in  his  dressing-gown,  mak- 
ing himself  a  cup  of  coffee  and  glancing  through  the 
paper. 

Thorn  looked  ill  and  distressed,  and,  in  answer  to 
the  old  man's  question,  told  him  that  Lady  Mary  had 
not  had  a  good  night;  Drake  had  just  told  him  that 
the  nurse  had  told  her  that  the  old  lady's  illness  would 
probably  be  a  long  and  serious  one. 

"  Signer  Carlo,"  Bruno  burst  out,  leaning  across 
the  table  with  the  fumes  of  coffee  rising  between  him 
and  the  other  man,,  "  It  is  an  evil  soul,  Meester 
Aghassy's,  and  I  wish  him  an  apoplexy  and  a  sudden 
death." 

Thorn  nodded  wearily.  He  was  too  exhausted 
mentally  and  physically  after  the  strain  of  the  last 
few  days  for  any  outward  vehemence;  but  his  mouth 
stretched  and  flattened  in  a  grim  way  that  Bruno 
understood,  and  the  old  man  knew  that  they  were  in 
sympathy  with  each  other.  He  was  about  to  say  some- 
thing tentative  on  the  subject  of  Mrs.  Cuthbertson, 
when  Drake  came  in  and  asked  for  a  cup  of  coffee  for 
her  mistress.  "  I'm  just  making  it,  Drake.  I  will 
bring  her  ladyship  a  cup  myself."  And  the  woman, 
after  a  sharp  glance  at  each  of  them,  withdrew  quietly 
on  her  large  flat  feet. 

ii 

It  was  nearly  twelve  that  night  when  Bruno  quietly 
opened  the  front  door  and  crept  upstairs  to  his  room. 
It  was  many  years  since  he  had  been  out  so  late,  and, 


YELLOWLEAF  165 

filled  as  his  mind  was  with  the  things  he  had  learned 
from  Mrs.  Cuthbertson,  the  quiet,  grey,  rain-swept 
streets,  lined  with  sleeping  houses  behind  high  walls, 
had  been  almost  frightening  to  him.  He  was  glad  to 
get  back  into  the  comfortable  little  room  where  he  had 
lived  for  forty  years,  every  object  in  which  seemed  to 
look  at  him  now  with  friendly  eyes.  His  fire  was  still 
burning,  and,  coaxing  it  into  a  blaze,  he  put  on  his 
dressing-gown — a  once  gorgeous  garment  that  had  be- 
longed in  its  youth  to  his  dear  Captain  Jim,  and  settled 
down  in  the  armchiar.  This  old  chair  dated  even 
farther  back,  for  it  had  belonged  to  Lord  Hainault,  and, 
before  him,  to  his  father,  and  it  was  grateful  to  the 
old  man's  back  as  he  started  on  his  difficult  task  of 
untangling  and  righting  the  confusion  of  his  thoughts. 
He  was  so  tired,  and  so  old,  that  quite  naturally 
his  mind  swung  back  over  more  than  half  a  century 
to  the  time  when,  as  a  very  young  footman  in  the 
house  of  Prince  Bevilacqua  in  Siena,  he  had  first  seen 
Captain  and  Lady  Mary  Dampierre,  then  on  their 
honeymoon  travels.  He  remembered  that  first  evening 
when  she  came  into  the  dining-room  in  all  her  panoply, 
leaning  on  the  old  prince's  arm.  She  was  dressed  in 
white  that  billowed  and  floated  round  her,  covering  an 
immense  amount  of  floor  space,  though  it  was  gathered 
into  an  almost  incredibly  slim  waist.  Her  smoothly 
parted  hair,  of  a  delightful  bright  brown,  covered  her 
ears  in  two  satin-like  wings,  and  her  eyes,  notably  dark 
and  lustrous  even  in  Italy,  were  fuller  of  light  than  any 
the  young  servant  had  ever  seen.  She  was  beautiful, 
she  was  fascinating,  with  the  innocent  unconscious 


166  YELLOWLEAF 

charm  that  she  could  not  help  any  more  than  a  lark 
can  help  its  song;  and  the  old  prince  and  old  princess, 
and  Don  Gianluca  and  Donna  Paolina,  and  the  rest, 
even  His  Excellency  the  Cardinal,  were  obviously  under 
her  spell.  Bruno  wondered  a  little  at  the  brightness 
of  the  vision  he  had  called  up  after  all  those  years ;  he 
could  see  it  all  so  clearly :  the  huge  vaulted  dining-room 
with  the  ancient  pictures  on  the  walls,  the  immense 
table  sparkling  in  the  light  of  dozens  of  candles,  the 
very  faces  of  the  people  seated  round  the  table,  were 
as  distinct  to  him  as  if  painted  on  his  wall  above  the 
mantelpiece. 

It  had  been  in  summer,  and  the  windows  were 
open,  and  the  light  from  the  many  branched  sconces 
was  blown  up  across  the  shadows  of  the  deep  roof, 
and  the  smell  of  magnolias  came  in  at  the  windows. 
He  had  not  been  quite  twenty  at  the  time,  but  he  could 
smell  those  magnolias  still 

The  English  capitano,  who  so  strangely,  as  it 
seemed  to  the  army  of  servants  in  the  immense  old 
palace,  was  only  a  plain  "  Mr.,"  although  his  wife 
was  a  "  Lady,"  stayed  in  Siena  for  a  fortnight,  and 
during  that  time  the  world  was  a  gay  and  jocund 
place,  full  of  laughter,  and  song,  and  delight.  It  was  a 
welcome  change  to  the  young  people  in  the  house,  for 
the  old  prince  and  princess  were  home-bound,  quiet 
people,  living  in  splendid  retirement,  and  leaving  the 
palace  very  rarely  except  for  their  solemn  daily  drive 
together  in  the  hermetically  sealed  brougham,  in  the 
gardens  of  the  fortress.  Their  sons,  who  in  the  Italian 
fashion  lived  with  their  families  in  apartments  under 


YELLOWLEAF  167 

the  same  roof,  were  dull  people,  too,  Don  Giahluca 
being  immersed  in  the  compilation  of  the  history  of  the 
family  and  its  fifteenth-century  glories;  and  the  wife 
of  the  other  son,  Don  Arrigo,  was  an  invalid;  so  that 
they  could  give  the  pomp-and-circumstance-loving 
Bruno  but  meagre  imaginative  diet.  And  now  these 
English  people  had  changed  everything,  or  rather  the 
milady  had,  for  her  husband,  a  handsome,  rather  stupid 
young  man,  did  little  more  than  follow  her  about  and 
carry  out  her  wishes  in  a  state  of  abject  devotion. 

When  the  young  couple  left,  having  distributed 
largess  with  a  generosity  that  took  way  the  breath  of 
everyone  from  the  house-steward  to  the  smallest  scul- 
lion, the  house  once  more  became  quiet  and  dull,  the 
flowers  in  the  vast  old  garden  seemed  to  lose  their 
sweetness  and  the  very  sun  his  lustre. 

Outside  Yellowleaf  the  cold  autumn  rain  pelted 
down  and  the  wind  was  rising.  .  .  . 

When  the  old  prince  died  about  a  year  later, 
Bruno,  now  second  footman,  decided  to  seek  adven- 
ture in  Rome;  and  here  it  was,  two  or  three  years 
after  his  move,  that  he  again  met  Lady  Mary  and 
her  consort.  Bruno  was  then  floor-waiter  in  the  new- 
est and  finest  of  Roman  hotels,  and  the  gods,  those 
fine  old  pagans,  in  whom  he  instinctively  and  innocently 
believed,  with  no  detriment  whatever  to  his  faith  in 
the  Christian  Deity,  arranged  that  suite  fifteen,  that 
finest  and  sunniest  of  apartments  looking  out  on  the 
beautiful  square  with  the  fountain,  should  be  allotted 
to  his  special  care.  Then  Pallas  Athene,  the  grey-eyed, 
disguising  herself,  no  doubt,  as  Mr.  Schwarz,  Captain 


1 68  YELLOWLEAF 

Dampierre's  courier,  took  Lady  Mary  Dampierre  by 
the  hand  and  led  her  to  suite  fifteen,  where  Bruno  all 
unconsciously  was  waiting  to  devote  the  whole  of  his 
long,  faithful  life  to  her. 

in 

When  they  came  back  to  England  in  the  spring, 
they  went  to  Captain  Dampierre's  house  in  Cheshire, 
and  then  to  London,  to  Lord  Hainault's  house  in 
Grosvenor  Square.  Bruno  remembered  his  horror  as 
he  got  out  of  the  cab  and  beheld  the  desolating  simi- 
larity of  the  row  of  great  houses  before  him.  His 
eyes  were  used  to  the  beautiful  palaces  of  his  own 
country,  and  could  it  be  that  his  liege  lady,  his  lovely 
and  miraculous  mistress,  could  live  in  a  barrack  so 
hideous,  and  what  was  worse  so  undistinguished  ?  But 
once  behind  the  big,  brown  front-door  his  mood 
changed  to  one  of  amazed  admiration,  for  here  was  a 
wonderful  interior.  Where  were  the  stone  staircase, 
the  long  stone  corridors,  the  vaulted,  dusty  ceilings  to 
whose  dark  recesses  only  spiders  and  flies  could  pene- 
trate? Where  were  the  brick  floors  requiring  oiling 
and  polishing  ?  Here  everything  was  padded,  wadded, 
the  carpets  which  covered  every  inch  of  the  floor  were 
thick  and  soft  and  sound-killing,  the  walls  were  covered 
with  dark,  rich,  begilded  papers,  the  sofas  and  chairs 
were  stuffed  almost  to  bursting  with  feathers.  Every- 
thing shone,  and  the  satin  in  the  big  drawing-room 
was  new,  and  of  an  incredible  gloss,  and  Bruno  had 
never  in  his  life  before  seen  new  satin.  In  his  wildest 
dreams  of  splendour  befitting  Lady  Mary  he  had  never 


YELLOWLEAF  169 

imagined  anything  like  this.  It  was  like  living  in  a 
huge  padded  jewel-case,  and  in  a  little  while  the  young 
man  began  to  grow  fat.  There  was  so  much  food, 
and  meals  occurred  so  often!  It  was  bewildering,  but 
he  was  very  happy,  for  he  was  Lady  Mary's  footman, 
and  her  knowledge  of  his  beautiful  language,  in  which 
she  always  spoke  to  him,  created  a  special  little  stand- 
ing for  him  in  the  house. 

Captain  Dampierre,  looked  back  at,  seemed  of  no 
great  importance.  Bruno  had  always  been  convinced 
that  he  was  not  nearly  good  enough  for  Lady  Mary, 
and,  when  he  died,  less  than  ten  years  after  the  mar- 
riage, he  left  no  great  gap.  Of  course,  by  that  time 
there  was  Master  Jimmy.  Bruno  remembered  the  day 
of  the  funeral  down  in  Cheshire,  where  they  had  taken 
the  poor  young  man  to  be  buried.  Master  Jimmy, 
about  eighteen  months  old,  was  playing  on  the  floor 
with  a  feather  he  had  pulled  out  of  a  feather  brush,  as 
the  slow  steps  of  the  bearers  carrying  the  coffin  passed 
the  nursery  door,  where  Bruno  had  been  told  to  stay; 
and  then,  as  the  funeral  procession  left  the  door  on  foot 
— for  they  had  only  to  cross  the  corner  of  the  little 
park  to  reach  the  church — Bruno  held  the  child  in  his 
arms  at  the  window.  He  still  had  the  feather  in  his 
little  hand  and,  as  his  father's  coffin  passed  by,  he 
pointed  with  it  and  stammered  out :  "  Black  peoples ! 
Black  peoples ! "  .  .  . 

Everyone  had  expected  Lady  Mary  to  marry  again, 
and  Bruno  was  sure  that  several  of  the  gentlemen 
who  came  so  often  to  tea,  in  the  barbarous  English 
fashion,  at  Grosvenor  Square,  had  asked  her  to  marry 


170  YELLOWLEAF 

them,  but  he  knew  that  she  had  never  in  the  remotest 
way  contemplated  such  a  thing.  Her  poor  young  hus- 
band's death  had  not  broken  her  heart,  and  she  made 
no  pretence  of  a  despair  she  did  not  feel;  but,  as  time 
went  on,  and  her  sincere  gentle  grief  died  away,  she 
went  her  way  quietly  and  happily,  quite  content  with 
the  little  boy,  and  her  few  friends,  and  her  many  social 
duties.  Bruno  also  knew  what  few  other  people  did — 
that  the  young  widow  was  a  voracious  and  discriminat- 
ing reader  of  books.  She  loved  books  more  like  a 
man  than  a  woman,  and  during  Lord  Hainault's  long 
absences  in  his  yacht  she  used  his  library,  the  little  one, 
as  her  own,  often  sitting  there,  as  her  young  footman 
knew,  till  the  small  hours,  deep  in  books  that  her  rosy- 
faced,  good-natured  brother  had  never  even  opened. . . . 

As  he  reached  this  point  in  his  memories,  the  old 
man  leaned  over  and  put  more  coals  on  the  fire,  for 
he  was  a  long  way  from  his  goal  yet,  and  he  was  get- 
ting to  a  time  in  his  life  the  memory  of  which  always 
hurt  him  with  a  fresh  pang. 

It  was  while  Jimmy,  now  become  Master  Jim,  was 
cramming  for  Sandhurst  that  It  happened.  Bruno  had 
always  felt  that  things  might  have  been  more  bearable 
if  It  had  taken  place  in  the  country.  There  was  some- 
thing horribly  public,  and  unseemly,  and  crude,  in  the 
fact  that  it  was  in  Rotten  Row  that  Lady  Mary  had 
been  thrown  from  her  horse  and  turned  from  one  hour 
to  the  next  from  an  active,  beautiful-bodied,  strong 
woman  in  the  prime  of  life,  into  a  broken  invalid  never 
again  to  set  foot  to  the  ground.  Bruno,  already  pro- 
moted butler,  had  himself  opened  the  door  to  the  terri- 
fied groom  who  had  been  sent  on  by  Lord  Hainault 


YELLOWLEAF  171 

to  prepare  the  household  for  the  dreadful  home-com- 
ing. Even  now  he  could  remember  her  face  as  they 
bore  her  in,  one  of  her  long  braids  of  bright  hair  hang- 
ing to  the  floor  as  they  carried  her  upstairs. 

It  was  after  this  that  they  made  the  move  to  Yel- 
lowleaf .  Sands,  Lord  Hainault's  valet,  it  was,  who  had 
told  Bruno  the  history  of  the  old  house  far  away  in  the 
impossible  and  rather  improper  suburb  of  St.  John's 
Wood.  Yellowleaf  had  been  built  far  away  in  early 
Georgian  days  by  the  seventh  Lord  Hainault,  for  a 
lady  about  whom,  it  appeared,  least  said,  soonest 
mended ;  but  on  this  lady's  death  the  house  reverted  to 
the  family,  and,  in  a  moment  of  tight  finances — for  the 
Hainaults  had  achieved  their  great  wealth  in  George 
the  Fourth's  day,  and  before  that  were  comparatively 
poor — a  younger  son  had  been  given  the  house  for 
himself  and  his  numerous  family,  who  were  difficult 
to  dispose  of,  and,  after  that,  so  comfortable  was  it,  so 
rural  and  full  of  fresh  air,  that  the  subsequent  younger 
sons  regarded  it  as  the  very  topmost  plume  in  their 
caps.  Several  times  it  had  been  added  to,  and  improved 
upon,  but  at  the  time  of  Lady  Mary's  accident,  there 
being  no  younger  sons,  and  her  brother — owing  to  one 
of  those  delightful,  blighted  disappointments  in  love, 
so  universal  at  that  time,  according  to  novelists  of  the 
period — never  having  married,  Yellowleaf  had  been 
closed  for  years. 

Bruno  distinctly  remembered  how  poor  Hainault 
had  broken  down  after  his  first  talk  with  his  sister  sub- 
sequent to  the  doctor's  having  told  her,  in  obedience 
to  her  coldly  peremptory  orders,  that  she  would  never 
walk  again. 


172  YELLOWLEAF 

"  Bruno,  Bruno,"  Lord  Hainault  had  said,  frankly 
crying  before  a  man  from  a  country  where  masculine 
tears  are  no  disgrace,  "  they've  told  her !  She  knows. 
My  God !  and  she's  only  thirty-nine !  " 

The  tears  were  rolling  down  Bruno's  cheeks,  for  he 
was  no  less  afflicted  than  Lady  Mary's  brother,  and 
presently  Lord  Hainault,  after  a  loud,  conclusive  blow 
of  his  nose,  told  him  about  Yellowleaf. 

"  She  wants  to  go  and  live  at  Yellowleaf,"  he  said 
brokenly.  "  It's  a  place  we've  got  up  in  an  awful  part 
of  London  called  St.  John's  Wood.  Why,  damn  it  all, 
it's  barely  respectable!  " 

After  a  minute  he  went  on :  "  She  refuses  absolutely 
to  stay  here,  and  she'd  die  in  the  country.  Oh,  my 
poor  girl!  She  couldn't  stand  it.  But  imagine,"  the 
mid- Victorian  added,  in  honest  bewilderment,  "  im- 
agine preferring  St.  John's  Wood  to  Grosvenor 
Square ! "  .  .  . 

And  then  came  the  preparation  of  the  old  house 
for  the  young  invalid.  Mrs.  Beeney,  Lord  Hainault's 
housekeeper,  took  Bruno  with  her  on  her  first  journey 
to  the  inaccessible  dower-house  in  the  ill-credited 
suburb.  The  old  man  remembered  his  struggles  with 
the  key  in  the  rusty  lock,  and  the  damp  musty  smell  as 
they  went  in.  Conscientiously  they  went  all  over  the 
house,  from  attic  to  cellar,  and  during  the  middle  of  the 
afternoon  Lord  Hainault  joined  them.  He  had  never 
been  in  the  house  before,  and  wondered  at  its  comfort 
and  dim  beauty. 

"  I  will  make  it  beautiful  for  her,"  he  said. 
"  Beautiful " 


YELLOWLEAF  173 

IV 

That  was  nearly  forty  years  ago,  and  the  follow- 
ing spring  Lady  Mary,  who  had  never  been  in  St 
John's  Wood  before  in  her  life,  was  lifted  out  of  her 
brother's  most  roomy  and  comfortable  carriage,  and 
put  into  the  first  of  a  succession  of  always  improved 
wheel-chairs.  It  was  the  first  time  she  had  been  out  of 
the  house  since  the  accident,  not  because  she  might  not 
have  had  drives  before,  but  because  she  refused  to 
budge  until  Yellowleaf  was  ready  for  her.  Waving 
her  nurse  aside,  she  beckoned  to  Bruno.  "  You  will 
always  wheel  me  about,  Bruno,"  she  said  in  Italian. 
"  You  might  as  well  begin  now."  And  thus  it  was  that 
the  young  Italian  entered  into  his  undefined  and  very 
important  duties  in  the  new  scheme  of  things.  . 

It  was  after  this  that  through  a  series  of  legacies 
Lady  Mary,  whose  husband  had  been  a  poor  man,  and 
whose  own  dowry  had  been  comparatively  small,  be- 
came the  rich  woman  she  was.  Captain  Jim  grew  up, 
although  in  that  markedly  unfashionable  part  of  the 
town,  used  to  every  luxury,  finding  no  expense  too  great 
for  the  fulfilment  of  his  wishes.  But  he  was  not  spoilt, 
and  at  five-and-twenty  was  a  most  charming,  simple 
young  man,  and  one  of  the  most  popular  youths  in  the 
Hussars. 

Even  in  those  days  Yellowleaf  had  been  full  of 
pleasant,  spacious  silence,  for  Lady  Mary  had  never 
had  many  friends,  and  as  time  went  on  her  acquain- 
tances one  by  one,  no  doubt  chiefly  as  the  result  of 
her  own  attitude,  gave  up  coming  to  the  house.  After 
all,  St.  John's  Wood  was  in  those  days  very,  very  far 


174  YELLOWLEAF 

from  the  haunts  of  London  society,  and  coachmen 
looked  askance  when  told  to  drive  there,  rather  as 
though  they  thought  something  in  the  air  might  upset 
their  horses'  healths,  or  their  own  morals.  .  .  . 

Bruno's  one  consolation  during  the  last  four  days, 
while  Lady  Mary  was  so  ill,  and  the  great  Sir  Arthur 
Hesketh  so  very  grave  in  his  manner,  had  been  the 
number  of  calls  and  cards  evoked  by  the  news  of  her 
dangerous  condition.  Miserable  though  he  was,  it  had 
comforted  and  gratified  the  old  man  to  open  the  door 
many  times  a  day  to  inquirers,  a  great  many  of  whom 
bore  titles  that  he  considered  worthy  of  decorating 
the  big  oak-chest  in  the  hall — a  duchess,  a  countess, 
two  viscountesses  and  innumerable  mere  "  Ladies," 
had  come  personally  to  the  door,  and  the  duchess, 
whom  Bruno  had  always  cherished  in  his  heart  as  a 
proper  associate  for  his  lady,  and  who  was  one  of  the 
few  friends  of  the  old  times  who  still  came  occasionally 
to  see  her,  even  brought  a  great  bunch  of  hot-house 
roses,  which  was  gratifying  to  Bruno,  even  though 
Lady  Mary  never  saw  them. 

Secretly,  in  his  loyal  breast,  he  had  always  re- 
gretted this  seclusion  in  which  his  mistress  chose  to 
live ;  the  short  time  between  Captain  Dampierre's  mar- 
riage and  his  death  had  been  a  rosy  one  for  the  old 
man,  for  then  there  had  been  parties,  and  dances,  and 
constant  going  out  at  night  behind  the  splendid  horses 
that  Lady  Mary  always  kept,  though  she  never  used 
them  herself.  It  had  looked — for  the  handsome  young 
couple  were  enjoying  the  few  years  they  were  allotted 
to  be  together — as  if  the  old  glories  of  Grosvenor 


YELLOWLEAF  175 

Square  might  be  coming  back,  and  then  ...  As 
he  reached  this  point  in  his  reflections  the  old  man 
rose  with  a  lavish  gesture  of  hopelessness,  and  pre- 
pared for  bed.  Captain  Jim  had  died,  and  Yellowleaf 
shrunk  back  still  further  into  its  seclusion  and  silence; 
and  now,  here  was  Master  Jimmy,  the  Signorino, 
almost  grown  up,  and  the  poor  Signorina  Lili  had 
married  questa  bestia.  .  .  .  Bruno  had  learned 
many  things  that  evening,  sad  and  alarming  things 
that  roused  his  deepest  anger  and  hatred.  For  a  long 
time  he  lay  in  his  bed  watching  the  dying  fire  as  the 
wind  fretted  its  life  away,  for  his  was  a  great  respon- 
sibility and  he  did  not  know  how  he  ought  to  use  it; 
but  by  the  time  he  dropped  off  to  sleep  he  had  almost 
made  up  his  mind  by  a  process  of  eliminations.  What 
he  had  to  tell  might  kill  the  Signorina  Lili  with  pain, 
and  it  might  kill  Her  Excellency  by  the  rage  that  it 
would  rouse  in  her  faint  old  heart.  Remained  then 
only  one  person,  and  to  him  the  poor  old  messenger 
must  repair  the  next  day.  He  must  tell  Charley  Thorn. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

i 

ONE  morning  early  in  April  Charles  Thorn  was 
sitting  reading  in  his  comfortable  upstairs  study. 
Through  the  two  big  windows  a  well-meaning,  but 
rather  feeble,  sun  was  creeping  gently.  The  room  was 
very  delightful,  being  full  of  the  gradual  accumula- 
tions of  a  rich,  travelled,  and  scholarly  man.  Books 
lined  two  sides  of  it.  There  were  one  or  two  fine  pic- 
tures, a  Conder,  a  Corot,  a  very  beautiful  bust  of  a  boy 
by  Lorenzo  da  Credi — a  smiling  brown  face  under  a 
brown  leather  cap,  and  a  bronze  green  jerkin  through 
slits  in  which  fluted  linen  showed.  Over  the  mantel- 
piece was  a  fine  old  bust  of  Socrates,  and  a  very  good 
modern  reproduction  of  the  head  of  Pericles  in  the 
British  Museum.  Between  the  windows  hung  a  case 
of  splendid  old  fans,  the  fruit  of  a  collection  begun  by 
Thorn's  grandfather  and  to  which  he,  rarely,  but  always 
with  great  discrimination,  contributed.  The  old  oak 
floor  was  partly  covered  by  Persian  rugs,  and  there  was 
a  glass-fronted  cabinet  full  of  delicate  Venetian  glass, 
that  looked,  as  the  best  Venetian  glass  always  does,  as 
if  it  was  the  off-spring  of  sea-foam  and  moon-shine. 
So  far  as  furniture  goes  the  room  was  rather  empty, 
for  its  unsociable  owner  rarely  had  a  visitor,  and, 
as  he  belonged  to  the  prowling  type  of  man,  he  re- 
quired room  for  untrammelled  movement.  In  one  cor- 
ner there  was  a  low  divan,  over  which  was  stretched  a 
beautiful  old  Seistan  rug,  ...  a  pleasant  room, 
176 


YELLOWLEAF  177 

mildly  characteristic  of  its  owner,  though  in  no  way 
over-personal,  and  Thorn,  seated  in  an  armchair  by 
the  window,  his  long  legs  stretched  over  the  floor,  big 
round  horn  spectacles  on  his  nose,  looked  exactly  what 
the  gods  had  meant  him  to  be — a  well-bred,  rather  dull 
Englishman,  saved  from  mediocrity  by  the  strength 
of  his  tastes  rather  than  that  of  his  brain.  He  might 
have  fought  with  Sir  John  Hawkewood  in  the  roaring 
fifteenth  century — shabby  dented  armour  would  have 
suited  that  big  frame  of  his;  with  his  length  of  arm 
and  his  cool  eye  he  should  have  made  a  fine  swords- 
man ;  but  after  all,  his  well-cut,  well-worn  grey  tweed 
clothes,  and  the  fountain-pen  on  the  table  beside  him, 
seemed  to  suit  him  as  well  as  the  more  romantic 
accoutrements.  He  was  reading  Castiglione's  "  Court- 
ier," a  very  old  Italian  edition,  and  his  mind  was  so 
thoroughly  soaked  in  the  period  of  that  noble  old  book 
that,  when  the  door  opened  quietly  and  Mrs.  Aghassy 
came  in  with  one  of  her  hands  held  behind  her  back, 
he  did  not  hear  her,  and  raised  his  eyes  a  few  seconds 
later  only  because  the  door  she  had  not  closed  let  in 
a  current  of  cool  air  that  touched  his  thinly-clad 
ankles. 

"Lily!" 

She  laughed  gaily.  "  You  look  as  if  I  were  a 
ghost.  Mamma  is  in  the  glass  gallery,  Charles,  and 
wants  you,  but  I  am  the  bearer  of  a  rich  gift.  Guess 
what  I've  got  in  my  hand!  " 

She  looked  very  well,  very  happy,  and  there  was 
a  faint  flush  in  her  delicate  cheeks  as  she  spoke.  As 
he  gazed  at  her  he  was  glad  to  see  how  young,  how 


178  YELLOWLEAF 

florescent  she  looked,  but  could  not  help  wondering 
how  she  could  be  so  content  and  full  of  child-like  mirth, 
after  the  news  of  yesterday. 

"  Well,  guess !  "  she  insisted.  She  wore  a  little  blue 
frock  that  hung  in  straight,  graceful  folds  to  her  grey 
silk  ankles  and  grey  suede  feet;  her  pretty  hair,  hair 
so  bright  and  vital-looking  that  it  made  most  other 
heads  look  shaggy  and  neglected,  was  piled  high  on 
her  head,  and  ridiculous  little  cork-screw  curls,  trans- 
parent and  fluffy,  hung  round  her  temples  and  ears. 

Seeing  his  glance,  she  laughed  and  her  colour 
deepened. 

"  I've  just  washed  my  hair,"  she  said. 

"  Lucrezia  Borgia's  excuse,"  he  returned,  closing 
his  book  carefully  over  a  thin  tortoise-shell  paper- 
cutter  and  putting  it  on  the  table.  "  When  she  wanted 
to  be  alone  she  always  washed  her  hair." 

Lily  stared  at  him,  for  she  knew  nothing  and  cared 
nothing  for  this  fascinating  lady.  "  Well,  if  you  won't 
guess  what  I  have  I  shall  have  to  show  you.  Look !  " 

What  she  held  up  to  him  in  her  ridiculous  scrap 
of  a  hand  were  two  primroses  in  a  little  cup  of 
crumpled,  furry-looking  leaves.  Thorn  smiled,  his 
grim  face,  which  had  always  seemed  to  Lily,  who 
knew  him  well,  to  be  more  a  denial  than  a  betrayal 
of  his  real  self,  softened  wonderfully.  He  was  pas- 
sionately fond  of  flowers,  and  particularly  of  the  little 
shy  ones  dropped  from  the  departing  skirts  of  winter 
like  little  lost  jewels.  On  his  writing-table  stood  a 
silver  lustre  bowl,  a  fine,  open,  friendly  bowl,  that  was 
always  full  of  flowers.  It  was  now  full  of  violets,  but 


YELLOWLEAF  179 

they  were  violets  that  he  had  bought,  violets  that  had 
travelled  from  the  south  of  France,  and  their  day  was 
nearly  done.  Taking  the  little  nosegay  Lily  offered 
him,  he  made  a  little  hole  in  the  middle  of  these  violets, 
and  worked  it  down  amongst  them  till  their  stems 
touched  the  water. 

"  Thank  you,  Lily,"  he  said.  "  That  was  kind  of 
you.  Come  along!  Shall  we  go  down." 

And  they  left  the  room,  and  went  slowly  down  the 
shallow  dark  staircase. 

"  Have  you  written  to  Jacques  yet?  "  he  asked,  as 
they  reached  the  first  landing. 

She,  who  was  ahead  of  him,  stopped  and  answered 
without  turning :  "  No,  what  is  the  good?  "  Her  voice 
had  changed,  and  her  little  shoulders  seemed  to  droop 
as  if  with  a  strongly  remembered  grief.  "  It  was  an 
awful  shock  and  a  disappointment,"  she  said  in  a  very 
low  voice.  "  But  after  all,  Jimmy  is  seventeen  and  a 
half,  and  it  won't  hurt  him  to  see  some  more  of 
America.  Jacques  will  take  very  good  care  of  him,  you 
know,"  she  added,  beginning  again  her  slow  progress 
down  the  staircase.  "  He's  very  fond  of  him." 

"  Yes!  "  Thorn  heard  himself  say. 

"  Jim  will  love  all  the  travel,  Charles,"  she  went  on 
with  an  odd  insistence  in  her  voice,  although  this  was, 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  first  time  he  and  she  had  dis- 
cussed this  entirely  unexpected  postponement  of 
Aghassy's  and  Jim's  return  to  England.  They  had 
reached  the  ground-floor  before  Charles  Thorn  spoke, 
and  then,  although  his  mind  was  full  of  forebodings,  he 
had  not  the  heart  to  try  to  impress  them  on  her. 


I8o  YELLOWLEAF 

"  I  am  glad,"  he  said  gently,  "  that  Aunt  Mary  has 

such  a  fine  day " 

ii 

Lady  Mary  had  been  established  by  Bruno  in  the 
glass  gallery.  She  had  been  seriously  ill  all  the  winter, 
and  Charles  Thorn  knew,  though  he  believed  that  Lily 
did  not,  that  her  heart  was  in  a  very  serious  condition. 
Sir  Arthur  Hesketh  had  told  Thorn,  but  to  save  his 
life  Thorn  could  not  make  up  his  mind  whether  the  old 
invalid  was  aware  of  her  condition  or  not  It  was  so 
about  so  many  things,  now-a-days,  at  Yellowleaf.  He 
knew  dreadful  things  about  Aghassy,  and  he  didn't 
know  whether  Lady  Mary  knew  them,  for  he  had  not 
told  her;  Lady  Mary  knew  things  about  Charles  that 
he  didn't  know  she  knew;  they  had  both  seen,  though 
they  had  never  discussed  it,  Lily's  uneasiness  and  dis- 
tress about  something  she  had  never  mentioned  to 
either  of  them,  and,  equally  without  discussion,  they 
had  watched  her  gradual  blossoming  into  peace  and 
something  like  happiness  since  Aghassy  had  gone  to 
America.  Then  there  was  Bruno.  Bruno  knew  that 
Lady  Mary's  heart  was  very  bad ;  the  nurse  had  told 
him,  but  he  and  Thorn  had  never  talked  it  over  to- 
gether, so  Bruno  did  not  know  how  far  Thorn's  infor- 
mation went  in  the  matter,  and  Bruno  knew  things 
about  Lily  that  neither  of  the  others  could  possibly 
have  learned  from  anyone.  They  were  a  reserved  lot, 
these  Dampierres  and  Thorns,  though  they  didn't 
realize  that  they  expressed  their  feelings  less  than 
other  people;  but,  during  the  last  few  months,  each 
one  of  them  had  grown  to  feel  that  they  were  all  in  a 


YELLOWLEAF  181 

tangle  of  odd,  insulated  reserves  and  little  secrets,  and 
this  had  had  the  effect  of  making  them  all  rather  more 
talkative  than  usual,  but  always  about  unimportant,  im- 
personal things.  Lady  Mary  had  had  a  great  deal  more 
to  say  than  ever  before  about  the  books  she  was  read- 
ing, and  she  and  Charles  fought  horribly  over  the  three 
versions  of  the  story  of  Electra;  Thorn  maintaining 
that  that  of  Sophocles  was  far  and  above  the  others, 
and  Lady  Mary  swearing  with  much  heat  that  Euri- 
pides, for  humanity  and  knowledge  of  Woman,  simply 
wiped  the  floor  with  both  Sophocles  and  ^Eschylus, 
It  was  ridiculous,  and  they  both  felt  it  to  be  so,  but 
these  discussions  really  developed  into  a  rancorous 
battle,  the  results  of  which  were  felt  in  a  decided 
coolness  between  them  for  several  days.  Lily,  who 
after  the  shock  of  her  husband's  elopement  with  her 
son  had  proved  pathetically  open  to  consolation  on  the 
subject  from  the  smallest  trifles  she  could  find  in 
Aghassy's  favour,  had  soon  settled  down  into  looking 
at  the  matter  like  a  well-meant  joke  of  Aghassy's,  and 
little  by  little  a  gentle  little  gaiety  that  had  always  been 
hers  until  something  in  his  personality,  devoted  though 
he  was  to  her,  had  crushed  it,  came  back. 

Thorn  was  sure,  and  he  knew  that  Lady  Mary  and 
Bruno  shared  his  certainty,  that  Lily  was  now  happier 
than  she  had  been  at  any  time  since  her  marriage,  and 
each  one  of  the  three  would  occasionally  catch  one  of 
the  others  looking  at  her  in  a  pitying  way  that  annoyed 
the  onlooker,  although  he  would  be  guilty  of  the  same 
thing  the  next  moment  himself;  and  then,  as  the  spring 
drew  on  and  the  time  approached  when  the  travellers 


182  YELLOWLEAF 

were  to  come  back,  Bruno's  lucent  eyes  took  to  follow- 
ing his  young  mistress  about  in  such  an  agony  of  regret 
and  piti fulness  that  Charles  once  spoke  to  him  about  it. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake !  "  he  said  roughly  in  vigorous 
Italian  metaphor,  "  stop  looking  at — Mrs.  Aghassy — 
as  if  she  were  being  crucified." 

Bruno  shrugged  his  shoulders  gently.  "  It  is  when 
they  come  back,"  he  answered  in  a  respectful  voice, 
"  that  her  crucifixion  will — continue." 

Thorn  said  no  more,  but  he  understood.  The  two 
had  never  discussed  Aghassy  since  the  morning  after 
the  old  man's  visit  to  Mrs.  Cuthbertson,  but  on  that 
occasion  Bruno  had  spared  nothing,  least  of  all  his 
hearer,  telling  the  whole  story  from  the  very  beginning. 

So  the  reserves  that  had  sprung  up  between  them 
had  been  tacit  ones,  referring  to  subsequent  things, 
such  as  Aghassy's  letters  and  Jimmy's,  and  the  effects 
these  letters  had  on  the  different  members  of  the 
household. 

That  morning,  as  he  and  Lily  joined  Lady  Mary 
in  the  glass  gallery,  Thorn  felt  as  if  the  tangle  of 
well-meant,  sparing  secrets,  as  if  the  little  pretences 
that  each  of  them  had  for  the  others,  had  suddenly 
become  unbearable.  He  felt  for  a  moment  that  he 
must  break  bounds  and  say  to  both  these  dear  women 
exactly  what  he  felt  about  Aghassy's  postponing  his 
return,  and  what  he  felt  was  vigorous  and  immediate ; 
but,  as  he  looked  at  the  old  woman's  face,  he  knew 
that  he  could  not  speak.  She  had  grown  much  older 
during  the  long  winter  and  her  struggle  with  her 
worn-out  heart;  the  lines  of  her  face  seemed  to  have 


YELLOWLEAF  183 

struck  in,  and  looked  almost  black  in  the  bright  sun- 
light. Her  hands,  too,  the  little  capable,  bejewelled 
hands  he  had  always  admired,  had  shrunk,  and  looked 
dry  and  bloodless. 

For  a  long  time  the  three  of  them  sat  there,  glanc- 
ing occasionally  at  each  other,  occasionally  out  into  the 
winter- wizened  garden:  three  people  who  loved  each 
other,  and  trusted  each  other  intensely,  and  yet  who 
dwelt,-each  of  them,  all  alone  on  a  little  island  fashioned 
in  the  sea  of  their  common,  though  secret,  trouble. 
Isolation,  makes  for  shyness,  but  it  most  certainly 
makes  for  self-reliance,  and  even  Lily  Aghassy,  who 
was  the  weakest  of  the  three,  felt  herself,  as  she  stitched 
away  at  one  of  her  eternal  white  seams,  to  be  a  com- 
plete and  independent  entity  needing  no  contact  and 
no  help  from  either  of  the  others.  It  was  Lady  Mary 
who  broke  the  long  silence.  "  I've  been  thinking, 
dear,"  she  said,  turning  a  large  diamond  round  and 
round  her  little  finger,  "  that  you  and  I  were  silly  to 
be  so  upset  yesterday  by  Jacques'  letter." 

Lily  went  to  her  with  eager  inclination.  "  That's 
exactly  what  I've  been  saying  to  Charles  as  I  came 
downstairs,  isn't  it,  Charles?  "  And  Thorn,  from  his 
island,  signalled  back  "  Yes." 

After  a  moment  Lady  Mary  went  on  with  a  fine  air 
of  disinterested  justice :  "  Far  be  it  from  me  to  deny, 
my  dear,  that  I  could  willingly  have  choked  Jacques 
yesterday,  when  the  letter  first  came;  but  that  was 
because  I'd  been  selfishly  longing  to  see  Jimmy,  and  I 
was  despondent;  but  after  a  good  night's  sleep  I  have 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  it  will  do  the  boy  a  world 


1 84  YELLOWLEAF 

of  good  to  see  the  Niagara  Falls,  and  '  Chickago,'  and 
the  Yosemite  Valley,  and — and  all  those  places," 

As  she  spoke,  she  made  an  involuntary  gesture  with 
an  imaginary  needle  through  an  imaginary  canvas, 
and  then  with  a  little  laugh  dropped  her  hand  on  the 
fur  rug  that  covered  her  poor  chilly  old  knees. 

"  It  was  abominably  selfish  of  Jacques  not  to  realize 
how  we  missed  the  boy,  and  how  you,  of  course,  my 
love,  want  him;  but  after  all,  a  musician  like  Jacques 
cannot  belong  exclusively  to  his  wife;  he's  the  world's 
property,  and  owes  it  to  the  world  to  distribute  him- 
self as  generously  as  possible." 

Lily  looked  up,  her  newly-happy  little  face  very 
sweet  with  gratitude.  "  How  right  you  are,  Mamma !  " 
she  murmured.  "  I  believe  you  understand  him  better 
than  any  of  us."  After  a  pause,  she  added  with  a 
certain  acerbity  to  Thorn :  "  Mamma  understands 
Jacques  a  great  deal  better  than  you,  Gian !  " 

Gian,  or  Giovanni  d'Medici,  was  one  of  his  oldest 
nicknames,  and  as  such  he  liked  it;  but  in  her  voice 
there  was  something  that  hurt  him,  for  like  many 
stolid-seeming,  indifferent-looking  people,  he  was  very 
sensitive  and  woefully  easily  wounded. 

"  I  have  never,"  he  said,  just  an  edge  of  resentment 
in  his  pleasant,  deep  voice,  "  pretended  to  understand 
your  husband,  Lily." 

Lady  Mary's  heavy,  deep-sunk  eyes  rested  for  a 
second  on  each  of  them  in  turn.  Middle-aged  people 
to  many,  they  were  to  her  almost  pathetically  young 
and  helpless.  She  knew  things  about  each  of  them 
that  the  other  did  not  know,  and  the  pathos  that 


YELLOWLEAF  185 

belongs  to  every  human  being  was  in  their  two  cases 
painfully  visible  to  her.  She  loved  them  both,  and  it 
would  have  given  her  the  keenest  gratification  to  knock 
their  heads  together  and  to  force  them  into  a  better 
understanding  of  each  other. 

"Ring  the  bell,  will  you,  Charles?"  she  said 
sharply.  "  Arthur  Hesketh's  an  idiot.  I  want  my 
embroidery.  I  can't  sit  here  and  do  nothing !  " 

So  the  huge  metier  was  brought  out  and  adjusted 
before  her,  and  with  a  sigh  of  satisfaction,  she  filled 
a  needle  with  cherry-coloured  silk  and  resumed  her 
work  where  she  had  left  off  almost  exactly  six  months 
before. 

in 

"  DEAR  MOTHER,"  Jimmy's  letter  sent  with 
Aghassy's  had  said,  "  Jacques  has  written  to  you  and 
told  you  all  about  it.  He  was  afraid  you  might  not 
like  our  staying,  but  we  are  having  such  a  splendid 
time  I  am  sure  you  won't  mind.  Since  we  came  back 
from  Washington  and  Philadelphia  things  have  been 
glorious.  I  don't  believe  even  you  have  any  idea  how 
they  adore  him  here.  They're  ever  so  much  more 
musical  than  we  are,  you  know.  He  has  hundreds 
of  albums  every  day  that  he  has  to  sign,  and  Buck- 
hardt  signs  most  of  them,  I'm  afraid.  The  only  thing 
I  don't  like  here  is  the  clothes.  I  had  to  get  new 
evening  kit,  and,  though  it  cost  three  times  what  it 
would  have  done  in  London,  there's  something  awfully 
funny  about  the  shoulders.  You'll  be  surprised  when 
you  see  how  I've  grown,  by  the  way!  We  shall  be 
here  in  New  York  for  another  six  weeks,  and  then  we 


1 86  YELLOWLEAF 

go  to  Boston,  and  then  to  Newport,  where  we  are 
going  to  stay  with  a  Mrs.  Cartwright,  a  very  old 
friend  of  Jacques.  The  next  place,  I  think,  is  some- 
where up  north,  close  to  Canada,  called  Bar  Harbor — 
mind  you  don't  put  a  '  u  '  in  the  Harbour,  because  they 
can't  stand  it  out  here.  We  shall  be  there  for  the  rest 
of  the  summer,  and  then  after  a  final  concert,  with  the 
Bach  Concerto  and  those  new  Russian  things  that 
Gran  loves,  we  start  on  the  great  tour.  It's  going  to 
be  great  fun,  and  I  do  love  going  about  with  Jacques. 
You  have  no  idea  what  a  swell  he  is,  and  the  funny 
part  is  that  nobody  treats  him  as  if  he  was  an  English- 
man. He  seems  less  English,  too,  somehow,  and  he's 
let  his  hair  grow,  which  really  seems  to  suit  him.  There 
never  was  anybody  in  the  world  in  the  least  like  him. 
Sometimes  he  seems  as  old  as  God's  grandfather,  as 
they  say  here,  and  sometimes  younger  than  me.  He's 
awfully  kind  to  me,  and  fearfully  particular  about  my 
catching  cold  and  all  that  kind  of  rot.  Well,  we're 
just  going  out  to  dinner,  so  I  must  stop.  Best  love  to 
Grandmamma.  I  hope  she's  all  right  again.  How's 
old  Charles?  I  suppose  he's  looking  after  you  and 
fussing  about  as  usual.  Good-bye,  dearest  All-Mine." 

"  JIM." 

This  letter  to  Lily,  to  Lady  Mary,  and  to  Charles 
Thorn,  seemed  practically  three  letters.  They  read  it, 
all  of  them  together,  with  a  common  meaning,  but 
each  one  read  it  again  alone  with  a  secret  and  per- 
sonal meaning,  and  the  pearly  spring  days  passed  by 
one  by  one,  bringing  a  brighter  green  to  the  winter- 


YELLOWLEAF  187 

bitten  grass,  a  greater  lift  to  the  sky,  a  livelier  smell, 
as  of  growing  things,  to  the  air.  Spring  was  coming, 
hurrying  along  with  its  youthfully  uncouth  strides 
and  back-slidings  into  winter,  with  its  purpling  of  the 
tree-trunks  and  big  boughs  of  the  trees;  and  with, 
under  the  trees,  its  little  pathetic,  brave  colonies  of 
snow-drops,  crocuses  and  narcissi.  Then  the  dark, 
damp-looking  boughs  were  blurred  and  frothed  with 
little  leaves,  the  sky  colours  grew  stronger,  the  sun- 
light deepened  in  hue,  and  tulips  came  marching  out 
through  the  earth  in  brave  phalanxes,  the  practical, 
ready,  Roman  legions  of  the  flower  world. 


CHAPTER  XV 


AFTERWARDS,  looking  back  on  the  queer,  blank  year 
that  followed  that  spring  day,  Lady  Mary,  Charles 
Thorn,  and  the  old  butler  each  found  that  its  blank- 
ness,  its  uniform  monotony  was  punctuated  by  a  scene 
that  he  or  she  had  with  Lily. 

Lady  Mary's  scene  took  place  during  a  thunder- 
storm in  May  in  her  Corner,  and  although  it  passed  by 
very  quietly,  she  could  always  remember  with  curious 
distinctness  the  heavy  rolling  of  the  thunder  and  the 
hissing  of  the  rain  on  the  window  above  the  mantel- 
piece. Thorn  had  been  called  to  France  by  the  illness 
of  his  brother,  who  for  years  had  been  a  monk  in  the 
south  of  France,  and  Lady  Mary's  remark  about  him 
it  was  that  started  the  conversation. 

"Odd  how  one  misses  Charles,  isn't  it?  "  she  said, 
peering  through  the  gloom  at  her  embroidery,  and  her 
hands  paused  over  it.  "  For  a  dull  man  he's  extraordi- 
narily pleasant  to  have  about." 

Lily  looked  up  from  her  work,  some  fluffy  canary- 
coloured  knitting,  her  eyes  full  of  surprise. 

"  Do  you  think  Charles  is  dull,  Mamma?    I  don't." 

The  old  lady  laughed.  "  No,  I  don't  suppose  he's 
dull  to  me ;  if  he  was,  we  should  not  miss  him ;  but  most 
people  think  him  so.  Your  uncle  Dan  did.  And  Mary 
Carbery  was  saying  the  other  day  that  he  bored  her 
to  tears." 
1 88 


YELLOWLEAF  189 

Lily  was  indignant  at  this,  and  declared  roundly 
that  Lady  Carbery  was  a  silly  old  thing  and  bored  her, 
Lily,  most  horribly,  with  her  silly  chatter  about  Bridge 
and  the  Play  and  other  people's  business.  Jacques 
says "  she  went  on,  and  then  stopped  suddenly. 

"  Yes?  What  does  Jacques  say  ?  "  But  Lily  shook 
her  head. 

"  Oh,  it's  not  worth  repeating,  and  I  don't  suppose 
he  meant  it.  He  often  doesn't  mean  the  dreadful 
things  he  says,  I'm  sure/' 

The  old  lady  drew  her  needle  and  silk  very  slowly 
through  her  canvas,  which  now  glowed  and  flamed  in 
its  approaching  completeness  with  rich  colours. 

"  I've  never  yet,"  she  said  after  a  moment,  with 
great  deliberation,  "  heard  Jacques  say  an  unkind  word 
about  anybody." 

Lily's  mind  was  engrossed  with  the  neat  turning 
of  a  corner  in  her  knitting,  so  she  noticed  no  special 
meaning  in  her  mother-in-law's  voice,  and  answered 
innocently :  "  Oh,  of  course  he  never  would  to  you;  but 
he  does,  you  know,  to  me." 

It  was  plain  that  Aghassy  seemed  so  far  away,  that 
she  had  been  so  long  lapped  in  the  peace  of  his  absence, 
that  her  nervous  terror  of  him  was  passed,  and  Lady 
Mary,  burdened  with  knowledge  and,  what  was  worse, 
half -knowledge  about  him,  could  not  resist  the  oppor- 
tunity, and  went  on  in  a  lulling  voice :  "  What  kind  of 
things  does  he  say,  my  dear?  He  always  seems  un- 
usually— what  shall  I  say? — benevolent  in  his  judg- 
ments. He  has  behaved,  for  instance,  so  particularly 
well  about  Charles." 


190  YELLOWLEAF 

Mrs.  Aghassy  started,  and  one  of  her  knitting 
needles  dropped  on  the  floor  with  a  little  snapping 
noise.  She  bent  over  at  once  and  prolonged  her 
search  for  it,  but  Lady  Mary's  sharp  eyes  had  seen  the 
old,  odd,  haunted  expression,  and  the  agonized  blush 
that  swept  up  over  her  face.  There  was  a  long  pause, 
and  then  the  old  lady  said,  in  the  voice  of  quiet 
authority  that  she  so  very  seldom  used :  "  My  dear, 
don't  you  think  it's  about  time  that  you  told  me  why 
you  are  so  afraid  of  Jacques?  " 

Lily  looked  at  her  furtively,  and  then,  once  more 
with  growing  courage,  met  her  eyes  steadily. 

"  I'm  not  afraid  of  him  now,"  she  said.  "  And  I 
never  had  any  real  reason — I'm  a  coward,  you  know. 
You  know  how  I  behave  about  mice;  and  I  was  not 
very  well  for  a  while,  I  think." 

Bruno's  words,  spoken  so  long  ago,  came  into  the 
old  woman's  alert  mind — "  The  Signorina  Lili  doesn't 
always  speak  the  truth  now."  And  yet  she  would  not 
have  said  that  her  daughter-in-law  was  lying  to  her  as 
they  sat  there  in  the  still,  old  house  with  the  rain  and 
thunder  about  them.  Lily  was  not  afraid  now,  that 
much  was  true.  "  Then  if  you  are  not  afraid,"  the  old 
woman  resumed,  "  you  must  be  very  glad  that  they'll 
be  back  in  the  autumn." 

"  I — yes,  I  am  glad.  Won't  it  be  fun  to  hear  all 
Jimmy's  adventures?  By  the  way,  I've  not  written, 
and  I  ought  to ;  I  think  I  will  go  and  do  it  now." 

Her  artless  attempt  at  escape  was  checked  with  un- 
expected severity.  "  Sit  down,  Lily.  There's  no  good 
trying  to  fool  me.  I  knew  perfectly  well  the  day  the 


YELLOWLEAF  191 

letter  came,  that  after  the  first  shock  of  not  seeing 
Jimmy  as  soon  as  you  had  expected,  you  were  relieved 
by  the  news.  You  were  glad — yes,  gladt  to  be  rid  of 
Jacques  for  another  six  months." 

It  was  many  years  since  she  had  spoken  to  her 
daughter-in-law,  who  was  also  her  second  cousin,  in 
such  a  tone  of  authority,  but  she  had  no  doubt  that  her 
old  power  was  still  there.  It  gave  her,  therefore,  one 
of  the  shocks  of  her  life  when  Mrs.  Aghassy  turned, 
her  knitting  gathered  up  in  her  arms,  and  said :  "  I 
think  you  forget,  Mamma,  that  I'm  nearly  forty  years 
old  now,  and  not  a  child,  even  though  I'm  not  clever 
like  you  and  Charles.  I  don't  wish  to  be  rude,  and 
you  know  I  love  you  very  much ;  but  I  can't  allow  you 
to  say  things  about  my  husband." 

She  walked  very  quietly  up  the  long  drawing-room 
and  out  into  the  hall,  closing  the  door  in  her  usual 
noiseless  way;  and  Lady  Mary  sat  for  five  minutes 
trying  to  digest  the  amazing  and  dignified  rebuke  that, 
she  told  herself,  as  the  humour  of  the  situation  came 
to  her  rescue,  she  so  richly  deserved. 

She  had  tried  to  break  through  the  queer  tangle 
woven  through  the  house  like  a  vast  spider-web  by  the 
different  things  that  were  known  and  unknown  about 
the  strange  man  who  now  belonged  to  them,  and  she 
had  failed.  She  knew  that  Lily  would  suffer  when 
Aghassy  came  back,  perhaps  all  the  more  for  this  time 
of  independence  and  peace;  but  she  also  knew  that  she 
would  never  again  dare  to  question  her.  It  was  insup- 
portably  galling  to  the  proud  and  capable  old  lady  to 
realize  that  her  part  of  the  drama  must  be  that  of  a 


192  YELLOWLEAF 

passive  looker-on.  If  Thorn  had  been  in  the  house, 
the  chances  are  that  she  would  have  broken  her  silence 
to  him,  as  well,  and  told  him  what  she  knew,  and 
feared,  and  asked  him  roundly  as  to  his  own  knowl- 
edge and  anticipations;  but  Thorn  was  in  the  south  of 
France,  in  a  monastery  high  up  on  a  grilling  yellow 
rock,  sitting  by  what  proved  to  be  the  death-bed  of 
his  only  brother. 

And  that  was  Lady  Mary's  interview  with  Lily. 

II 

Bruno's  interview  with  Lily  took  place  during  an 
attack  of  asthma  that  he  had  towards  the  middle  of 
July.  He  had  begun  to  recover,  and  was  sitting  in 
his  beloved  velvet  dressing-gown  with  his  back  to  the 
closed  window  through  which  a  blazing  sun  was 
drenching  him.  He  had  been  in  no  danger,  and  every- 
one in  the  house  was  used  to  his  asthmatic  attacks; 
but  he  had  suffered  a  good  deal,  and  looked  worn  and 
markedly  older,  as  he  sat  there  reading  the  Corriere 
della  Sera,  which  Florentine  newspaper  he  had  taken 
in  throughout  all  his  life  in  England.  Presently  he 
heard  the  sound  of  a  lightly-built  person  coming  up 
the  stairs,  and  letting  his  spectacles  slide  to  the  end  of 
his  handsome  nose,  he  looked  over  them,  smiling  in 
anticipatory  welcome,  towards  the  door. 

It  was  Lily,  and  in  each  hand  she  held  a  monstrous, 
downy,  rose  and  gold  peach.  These  delightful  speci- 
mens she  had  brought  him  as  a  little  gift,  and,  when  he 
had  thanked  her  and  assured  her  of  his  steady  prog- 
ress, and  she  had  told  him  that  although  Her  Excel- 


YELLOWLEAF  193 

lency  missed  him  a  great  deal,  she  was  doing  very  well 
without  him,  there  was  a  short  silence.  Then  Lily 
took  from  a  bag  she  carried  in  lieu  of  a  pocket — for 
she  was  a  born  mislayer  of  small  useful  objects — 
Picotee's  last  letter,  and  another  letter. 

"  Miss  Picotee  is  having  a  beautiful  time,"  she  said, 
"  and  the  waters  are  doing  her  a  great  deal  of  good." 

Bruno  nodded.  "  Yes.  The  Signor  Conte  Giuliano 
used  to  go  to  German  baths.  It  appears  there's  iron 
in  the  water,  and  it  helps  young  people  who  are  grow- 
ing. Very  soon,  Signora,"  the  old  fellow  added,  "  Sig- 
norina  Picotee  will  be  a  young  lady,  and  we  shall  have 
to  have  a  ball  for  her." 

Lily  nodded  a  little  absently.  "Yes,  she's  seven- 
teen, and  Mrs.  Clinton  writes  that  she's  very  tall  and 
is  going  to  have  a  lovely  figure." 

"  For  my  taste,"  the  old  servant  remarked  respect- 
fully, "  she's  too  tall.  I  think  a  lady  should  never  be 
so  tall  as  a  gentleman." 

Lily  laughed.  "  Oh,  that's  only  because  Her  Excel- 
lency is  little." 

He  smiled  in  answer,  and  then  she  read  him  the 
greater  part  of  the  young  girl's  letter,  in  every  part  of 
which  he  was  quite  as  interested  as  any  other  member 
of  the  household. 

The  suddenly  anaemic  Miss  Dampierre  was  at 
Schwalbach,  and  her  letter  was  full  of  lively  and  rather 
shrewd  descriptions  of  her  fellow-patients.  It  ended 
up  with  a  long  panegyric  of  her  last  letter  from  her 
stepfather,  which  had  been  a  very  long  and  particularly 
delightful  one.  "  Jacques  writes  the  best  letter  in  the 
13 


194  YELLOWLEAF 

world,"  she  said,  "  but  it  makes  me  boil  to  think  that 
Jinks  is  having  all  the  fun  of  being  with  him  all  this 
time.  Next  time  he  goes  away  I  shall  make  him  take 
me.  Of  course,  everybody  here  is  fearfully  interested 
in  him,  just  as  the  girls  at  school  were,  and  I've  written 
to  beg  him  to  send  me  a  new  photograph.  I  bought 
one  in  a  shop  in  Frankfurt  the  other  day,  but  it  is 
beastly,  and  makes  him  look  like  a  foreigner.  .  .  . " 

"  It's  a  nice  letter,  isn't  it?  "  Lily  remarked,  folding 
it  up.  "  Now  here's  one  from  Master  Jimmy,  that  I 
know  you  will  enjoy.  He's  having  a  splendid  time  at 
a  place  called  Newport.  He  says  the  people  live  in 
palaces  that  are  called  cottages,  and  they  must  be 
enormously  rich,  from  what  he  says " 

After  glancing  through  the  letter  she  handed  it  to 
the  old  man,  for  she  had  seen  one  of  the  gardeners 
doing  something  she  didn't  like,  and,  going  to  the 
other  window,  opened  it  and  called  out  some  direc- 
tions. Bruno  read  slowly,  not  because  Jimmy's  round 
hand-writing  was  a  difficult  one,  but  because  he  wished 
to  draw  from  the  letter  every  scrap  of  information  he 
could.  When  he  had  finished  it  he  folded  it  slowly,  and 
pushed  his  spectacles  once  more  further  from  his  eyes. 

"  The  Signorino,"  he  observed  slowly,  his  eyes  fixed 
on  her  face,  "  seems  to  be  growing  up." 

Lily  started.  "  Growing  up !  How  absurd !  It 
isn't  even  spelt  properly,  the  letter " 

"  Perhaps  not,  Signora ;  but  what  he  says,  he  says 
less  like  a  little  boy  than  like  a  young  man.  Haven't 
you  noticed  that?  " 

Mrs.   Aghassy  had  not  noticed  it,   and  the   idea 


YELLOWLEAF  195 

seemed  to  give  her  pain.  She  stood  there  in  the  sun 
clasping  and  unclasping  her  hands  for  a  moment,  and 
then  burst  out  in  a  way  more  familiar  to  the  old  man, 
in  whose  eyes  she  had  remained  almost  a  child,  than 
it  would  have  been  either  to  Lady  Mary  or  Charles. 

"  Oh,  Bruno !  "  she  said,  "  I  don't  want  Jim  to  grow 
up  there  in  America.  I'd  rather — I'd  rather  it  was 
here.  Oh,  I  wish  it  was  October !  " 

"  So  do  I,"  agreed  Bruno  with  gravity. 

For  several  minutes  there  was  again  silence,  her 
face  in  its  unrestrained  anxiety  looking  older  and  hag- 
gard. "  Mr.  Aghassy  will  take  the  greatest  care  of 
him,  of  course,  Bruno,"  she  said  at  length.  "  He  really 
loves  him.  But — I  can't  help  being  anxious  somehow, 
I  don't  know  why " 

The  old  man  watched  her,  and  the  pity  in  his  eyes 
was  as  great  as  the  distress  in  hers,  for  with  each  other 
these  two  old  friends  talked  with  their  visors  up ;  and 
suddenly  she  noticed  his  expression,  and  started  to- 
wards him.  "  Bruno !  Bruno !  What  is  it  ?  "  she  cried 
passionately.  "  You  know  something,  I'm  sure  you  do ! 
You  have  noticed !  You  have  seen !  Tell  me  what  it  is !" 

And  she  stamped  her  foot  in  the  peremptoriness  of 
her  wish  to  make  him  speak.  But  he  had  long  since 
made  up  his  mind  that  his  must  be  a  role  of  patient 
passivity.  He  knew  what  he  knew,  but  how  could  he 
help  thr.gs,  and  what  good  would  his  telling  do! 
Jacques  was  thousands  of  miles  away,  and  Lily  was 
here.  Poor  little  Signora !  It  was  an  article  of  faith 
to  this  old  man  to  protect  and  cherish  the  members 
of  his  old  mistress's  family,  but  the  only  protection 


196  YELLOWLEAF 

he  could  offer  now  was  that  of  restoring  to  this  agitated 
woman  the  relieved  peace  that  for  many  months  now 
had  been  hers. 

"  Signorina !  Signorina !  "  he  said  gently,  as  his 
clever  eyes  instantly  assumed  a  look  of  grave  and  inno- 
cent wonder.  "  Why  are  you  angry  ?  What  do  you 
mean  ?  How  could  I  possibly  know  anything  ?  I  who 
am  only  a  servant !  " 

The  immense  dignity  of  his  manner  restored  her 
own  to  her,  and  with  a  little  laugh,  she  excused  her 
outburst  on  the  score  of  the  unusual  heat  which  had 
now  lasted  several  weeks. 

"  I  don't  sleep  very  well,"  she  said,  "  and  it  makes 
me  short-tempered.  Now  I  must  go  down  to  Her 
Excellency;  she  will  be  glad,  old  friend,  that  you  are 
better." 

At  the  door  she  turned,  a  pathetically  unsuccessful 
smile  on  her  lips.  "  Mind,  you  enjoy  your  peaches," 
she  said. 

And  this,  unimportant  though  it  seems,  was  the 
talk  that  Bruno  was  to  remember  as  the  most  vital 
thing  in  that  long  hot  summer. 

in 

Thorn's  talk  took  place  after  dinner  one  evening  in 
mid- August;  he  did  not  come  to  London  until  the 
end  of  June,  and  the  six  weeks  following  h;s  return 
had  been,  owing  to  the  death  of  his  brother,  unusually 
busy  ones  for  him.  He  had  had  business  to  get  through 
with  lawyers,  and  bankers,  and  twice  he  had  gone 
down  by  the  sea  in  Sussex  where  lay  the  much 


YELLOWLEAF  197 

shrunken  estate  that  was  now  his.,  His  brother,  who 
had  become  a  monk  during  his  childhood,  he  had 
hardly  known,  and  naturally  could  not  miss  him  much; 
but  such  an  upheaval  as  the  death  of  the  head  of  one's 
family  is  always  moving,  and  there  had  been  papers  to 
go  through,  tenants  to  see,  and  Thorn  had  come  back 
to  Yellowleaf  looking  a  little  older,  a  little  sadder, 
than  before. 

On  that  August  evening,  after  one  of  the  hottest 
days  of  an  abnormally  hot  summer,  it  was  about  ten 
o'clock,  and  Lady  Mary  had  gone  to  her  room,  and 
Lily  upstairs.  Thorn,  oppressed  by  the  heat  and  the 
breathlessness,  wandered  up  and  down  the  big  draw- 
ing-room a  few  moments,  looking  at  a  picture  here, 
examining  a  bronze  a  little  farther  on,  and  then,  turn- 
ing a  corner,  stood  staring  into  the  fern-filled  fireplace 
that  was  exactly  opposite  Lady  Mary's  Corner.  The 
door  into  the  big  conservatory  was  open,  and  its  great 
windows  were  thrust  open,  out  into  the  moonlight ;  the 
smell  of  damp  growing  things,  though  so  pleasant  on  a 
cold  day,  was  oppressive  that  hot  night,  and,  lighting 
a  cigarette,  Thorn  left  the  room  and  walked  down  the 
long,  cool  passage  towards  the  open  door  of  the  glass 
gallery.  Perhaps  because  of  the  heat,  which  always 
made  him  jumpy,  his  mind  was  full  of  unwelcome 
thoughts  of  Aghassy  and  his  approaching  return. 

He  was  not  a  weak  man,  but  he  was  not  essentially 
a  man  of  action  as  Aghassy,  curiously  enough,  was; 
but  he  was  now  in  the  unpleasant,  almost  intolerable 
position  of  hating,  for  his  cousin,  things  as  they  were, 
and  yet  being  unable  to  think  of  any  alternative  for 


198  YELLOWLEAF 

her.  As  he  passed  the  door  of  Aghassy's  room  he 
paused,  and  then  on  a  sudden  impulse  went  in. 
Through  the  three  windows  the  moonlight  poured  in, 
for  Aghassy's  bright  green  eyes  were  as  strong  as  an 
animal's,  and  he  loathed  curtains  and  blinds.  The 
piano  was  shut,  of  course,  but  it  was  not  locked,  and 
Thorn  opened  it  and  stood  looking  down  at  its  shining 
keys.  It  occurred  to  him  that  if  the  fool  that  invented 
pianos  had  never  been  born,  Lily  would  never  have 
married  Aghassy.  It  was  the  piano  that  was  respon- 
sible for  the  disastrous  match,  and,  exasperated  by  the 
sustained  heat  and  the  thunderous  air,  he  closed  it 
quickly  and  drew  back,  as  if  it  had  been  a  sentient 
thing  and  he  was  afraid  of  losing  his  temper  with  it. 
The  room  was  as  empty  as  a  constantly  inhabited 
room  can  be,  but  it  seemed  haunted  that  night,  and 
thronged  with  countless  Aghassy s,  every  one  of  whom 
Charles  Thorn  hated,  and  would  have  loved  to  throttle. 
It  was  a  relief  to  him  to  allow  his  pent  loathing  to  surge 
up  uncontrolled,  to  shake  him  with  passion  and  distort, 
as  he  knew  it  was  distorting,  his  face.  He  felt  the 
sweat  start  out  on  his  forehead,  and  in  his  heart  he 
knew  that  at  that  moment  he  was  practically  a  mur- 
derer. And  this  knowledge,  instead  of  alarming  him, 
caused  him  a  keen,  dark  joy. 

He  moved  his  jaw  slowly  from  side  to  side,  as  was 
his  way  when  very  angry,  without  opening  his  mouth, 
and  then  suddenly  he  saw,  standing  in  the  dark  pas- 
sage, her  face  in  the  moonlight  full  of  terror,  Lady 
Mary's  maid,  Drake.  The  woman  was  evidently  fright- 
ened to  death  by  him  and,  for  a  moment,  they  stared 


YELLOWLEAF  199 

at  each  other  in  silence,  while  Thorn  felt  his  face  slowly 
melt  into  its  usual  aspect.  He  tried  to  laugh,  and  he 
tried  to  speak,  but  his  throat  was  dry  and  his  tongue 
heavy  in  his  mouth,  and  before  he  could  form  a  sound, 
he  was  alone,  the  woman  having  fled  away  noiselessly 
into  the  shadows.  Wiping  his  face  on  his  handker- 
chief, Thorn  went  out  across  the  glass  gallery  where 
the  windows  were  open  to  let  in  the  air,  and  down  the 
steps  across  the  lawn  to  the  fountain,  where  he  stood, 
his  arms  folded,  gazing  blindly  at  the  little  column  of 
water  as  it  broke  into  a  million  pale  jewels  in  the 
moonlight.  "  There's  another  thing,"  he  thought 
drearily,  "  I  shall  never  be  able  to  mention.  Damn  it 
all !  The  house  is  bewitched.  All  these  dreadful  little 
silences !  They're  turning  it  into  a  kind  of  tomb!  "  It 
was  very  quiet ;  in  the  high-walled  garden  the  shadows 
of  the  trees  and  bushes  looked  solid,  like  blocks  of 
stone,  and  the  moonlight  seemed  too  bright  in  the  heat. 
The  beautiful  old  fountain  with  its  two  stone  figures 
was  a  favourite  of  Thorn's.  It  was  a  kind  of  game 
with  him  to  try  and  decide  what  long- forgotten  god 
and  goddess  the  weather-beaten,  graceful  man  and 
woman  represented,  and  there  was  something  quieting 
in  the  steady  gush  of  the  water.  Presently  he  sat  down 
on  the  fluted  brink  and  tried  to  turn  his  thoughts  away 
from  Aghassy.  He  had  heard  the  clock  in  the  hall 
strike  half -past  ten  when  the  sound  of  footsteps  roused 
him,  and  turning,  he  saw  Lily  running  down  the  steps. 
She  was  still  in  evening-dress,  but  she  had  thrown  a 
little  gauzy,  rose-coloured  scarf  over  her  shoulders, 
and  there  was  something  in  her  hand. 


200  YELLOWLEAF 

"Oh,  Charles!  "  she  cried  in  a  sharp  quick  voice 
very  unlike  her  own.  '"  I've  had  a  telegram.  They're 
not  coming  back.  What  shall  I  do  ?  What  shall  I  do  ?  " 

Thorn  took  the  telegram  and  read  it.  It  was  rather 
long  and,  after  saying  that  Aghassy  was  not  well  and 
that  a  specialist  advised  a  southern  sea  journey,  added 
that  he  and  Jimmy  were  consequently  going  to  Cali- 
fornia, and  could  sail  from  there  to  Japan  and  thence 
to  Australia.  The  cablegram  ended  with  affectionate 
greetings  and  promises  of  an  early  letter. 

Thorn  stopped  in  the  middle  of  it,  smitten  with  a 
kind  of  terror,  for  Lily  was  crying,  and  he  hadn't  seen 
her  cry  for  years.  She  looked  very  little  and  child-like 
with  her  hands  pressed  over  her  face,  but  her  crying 
was  so  dreadfully  unlike  that  of  a  child  that  Thorn 
really  thought  for  a  moment  that  he  couldn't  bear  it. 
This,  then,  was  why  he  had  been  so  haunted  all  the 
evening  by  Aghassy's  dark  spirit;  this  blow  had  been 
on  its  way.  He  read  the  telegram  through  to  the  end 
and  then  put  it  in  his  pocket. 

"  Listen,  Lily,"  he  said  steadily.  "  You  mustn't  cry 
like  that,  it's  silly.  I've  heard  you  say  yourself  that 
it  would  be  good  for  Jimmy  to  see  something  of  the 
world,  and — and  what  good  care  Aghassy  would  take 
of  him.  Don't  cry !  Don't !  " 

But  to  his  horror  she  knelt  down  on  the  brink  of  the 
fountain  and,  bending  her  head  and  face  almost  to  her 
knees,  went  on  sobbing  in  that  dreadful  way.  He 
walked  to  the  edge  of  the  lawn  and  back  without  speak- 
ing. He  might  as  well  have  spoken  to  the  fountain 
and  told  it  to  dry  its  waters  as  tell  his  little  cousin  to 


YELLOWLEAF  201 

dry  her  tears,  and  he  knew  it.  After  what  seemed 
a  long  time  he  said  once  more  in  that  stern,  chiding 
voice :  "  You  really  are  being  an  idiot,  Lily.  It's  only 
a  matter  of  two  or  three  months,  and  you  know  he'll 
take  good  care  of  Jinks." 

At  these  words  she  turned  without  rising,  and  lifted 
up  her  tear-drenched,  anguished  face.  "  Do  you  think 
he'll  take  good  care  of  him?  "  she  asked  sharply,  a  new 
edge  in  her  voice. 

Thorn  stared  at  her  in  honest  bewilderment.  "  Of 
course  he  will,"  he  returned.  "  And  you  know  it." 

But  still  without  moving,  she  persisted :  "  On  your 
word  of  honour,  you  think  he  will  take  care  of  him?  " 

Thorn's  relief  was  great,  for  he  had  no  doubt  that 
Aghassy  would  look  after  the  boy  who  was  to  be  so 
rich,  and  there  was  no  reason  why  he  should  tell  the 
boy's  mother  that  he  knew  her  husband  to  be  doing 
everything  in  his  power  to  attach  his  stepson  to  him- 
self because  of  this  future  wealth.  Charles  knew  that 
Aghassy  intended  to  enjoy  young  Jimmy's  fortune 
when  it  came  to  him,  but  he  could  do  no  good  by  tell- 
ing Lily  this,  so  it  lightened  his  heart  immensely  to 
give  the  word  of  honour  she  had  asked  for,  and  with 
a  sigh  of  relief  he  watched  her  face  clear  a  little  as 
she  rose. 

"  Lend  me  your  handkerchief,  Charles,"  she  said. 
He  did  so,  and  she  dried  her  eyes  and  blew  her  nose, 
and  gradually  calmed  down. 

"  It's  the  weather,  this  awful  heat,  that  made  you 
do  that,"  he  said  kindly  after  a  minute.  "  Let's  sit 
down  here  and  talk  things  over."  She  obeyed,  as  she 


202  YELLOWLEAF 

usually  did  obey  unimportant  orders  of  the  kind.  When 
they  read  the  telegram  again  Thorn  expressed  a  wish 
to  know  what  was  the  matter  with  Aghassy.  "  I  can't 
imagine  him  being  ill,  somehow,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  he  isn't  ill,"  she  returned  with  a  calmness  that 
was  astonishing  to  him  after  the  recent  storm.  "  He 
only  says  that." 

Thorn  looked  disgusted,  for  he  had  not  suspected 
Aghassy  of  being  a  liar. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  he  would  make  up  a  yarn 
like  that?" 

She  nodded,  dipping  a  corner  of  his  handkerchief 
into  the  fountain  and  holding  it  over  her  hot  eyes. 

"  Oh  yes,  he  would,"  she  said ;  "  to  save  my  feel- 
ings, you  know.  He's  very  kind,  Jacques  is." 

"  But  well,  damn  it  all,  Lily,"  Thorn  broke  out, 
puzzled  to  the  pitch  of  uncontrollable  impatience. 
"  You  suspect  the  man  of  ill-treating  or  neglecting  Jim, 
and  yet  you  think  he's  very  kind!  It's  perfectly 
ridiculous." 

She  dipped  the  handkerchief  again  into  the  water 
and,  turning,  looked  at  him.  "  I  know,"  she  said 
simply.  "  It  is  ridiculous,  but  I  can't  explain ;  and  yet 
it  really  is  kindness.  You  see,  he  had  made  up  his 
mind  to  take  Jinks  to  Australia,  and  he  thought  that 
it  would  not  hurt  me  so  much  if  I  believed  there  was 
a  real  reason — not  just  because  he  wanted  to." 

Thorn  grunted.  "  I  see.  I  hope  he  won't  teach  any 
of  these  dirty  tricks  to  Jimmy."  He  started  up.  "  By 
God!  I  believe  I'll  go  on  after  them.  I  could  easily 
catch  them  up." 


YELLOWLEAF  203 

There  was  a  pause,  and  then  she  said  piteously,  a 
little  break  in  her  voice :  "  Oh  no,  Charles !  You 
mustn't  go.  I  could  not  bear  to  have  you  away,  too." 

He  didn't  move,  and  his  grim  face,  set  with  his 
resolution,  was  unchanged ;  but  after  a  minute  he 
answered  her.  "  I  don't  see  what  good  I  do  here — 
I'm  about  the  most  useless  devil  alive;  but  if  I  went  out 
there,  I  could  at  least  see  that  he's  not  teaching  your 
son  to  be  a  sneak  and  a  liar." 

A  far-off  clock  struck  eleven,  its  deep  velvety  voice 
very  distinct  in  the  sultry  stillness.  "  I  must  go  in 
now,"  Lily  said,  squeezing  the  water  out  of  his  hand- 
kerchief. "  Good-night." 

She  held  out  her  hand,  and  he  took  it,  and,  after 
looking  at  him  for  a  moment,  she  bent  down  and  kissed 
his  great  fingers. 

"  Charles,  dear  Charles !  "  she  said.  "  Please  don't 
go.  You  were  perfectly  right.  I  was  silly,  and  of 
course  Jacques  will  take  care  of  Jimmy;  and  Mamma 
and  I  could  not  bear  it  without  you " 

Then  she  sped  away  over  the  sun-burnt  grass,  and 
up  the  steps,  and  into  the  dark,  mysterious  house. 

Thorn  stood  for  a  long  time  thinking  about  her,  and 
how  little  she  had  grown  up,  and  what  a  child  she  still 
was;  then,  very  slowly,  he,  too,  left  the  fountain  and 
went  into  the  house. 


CHAPTER  XVI 


WHEN  Aghassy  and  Jimmy  finally  did  get  back 
from  their  travels,  two  years  all  but  a  month  after  they 
had  left  England,  Thorn  went  down  into  Sussex  for  a 
few  days.  Until  the  evening  before  their  arrival  he 
had  had  no  intention  of  leaving,  but  it  had  come  over 
him  suddenly,  as  he  and  Lady  Mary  and  Lily  sat  over 
the  fire  in  the  old  lady's  Corner — the  last  of  so  many, 
many  times  that  they  would  be  alone  there — that  he 
could  not  face  the  arrival  itself.  The  strength  went 
out  of  him  at  the  thought  of  the  different  stages  of 
what  was  sure  to  be  to  everyone  in  the  house  a  painful 
ceremony;  the  stopping  of  the  car  at  the  gate,  the  open- 
ing of  the  garden-door,  and  then  Bruno  standing  in  the 
lighted  hall,  the  taking  off  of  great-coats  and  mufflers 
— for  winter  had  set  in  already,  although  it  was  only 
October — and  the  greetings. 

Angry  with  himself  at  his  weakness,  and  yet  strong 
in  facing  the  fact  that  it  was  a  weakness  he  could  not 
overcome,  Thorn  decided  to  run  away.  He  knew  that 
Lily,  for  all  her  immense  happiness  in  her  son's  return, 
was  yet  filled  with  fear  about  it.  He  had  known  for  a 
long  time'  now  that,  whereas  he  had  a  basis  of  sinister 
facts  for  his  loathing  of  Aghassy,  and  that  she  could 
not  possibly  know  these  facts,  or  any  others  to  justify 
her  terror,  she  was  yet  more  terrified,  more  in  dread  of 
the  man,  through  some  instinctive  knowledge  of  his 
204 

i 


YELLOWLEAF  205 

capabilities,  than  he.  He  knew,  too,  that  it  was  beyond 
him  to  watch  this  horrible  premonitory  fear  increase 
in  her  mind  as  the  hour  of  her  husband's  return  grew 
nearer.  He  told  Lady  Mary  and  Lily,  as  they  said 
good-night,  that  he  found  he  was  obliged  to  go  down 
to  Drax  on  business.  Lady  Mary,  who  had  been  a 
good  deal  stronger  of  late  and  had  not  alarmed  them 
by  a  fainting-fit  for  several  months,  smiled  at  him,  not 
without  malice. 

"  Dear  me !  How  disappointed  you  must  be !  "  she 
returned,  her  old  eyes  aglow  with  mischief. 

Lily  said  nothing,  but  he  knew  that  each  of  them 
knew  that  he  was  running  away ;  he  knew  that  neither 
of  them  would  mention  it  to  the  other;  and  he  knew 
that  both  of  them  knew  that  he  knew  that  they  knew. 
The  web  of  small  intangible  reserves  had  grown  with 
the  passing  of  time,  and  was  very  strong  indeed  now. 
.  .  .  So  early  the  next  morning  he  motored  down 
into  the  pleasant  land  of  Sussex  by  the  sea,  where  his 
little  old  house  lay  folded  away  among  the  downs.  .  .  . 
a  little  old  fortified  place  it  was,  that  had  escaped  the 
blighting  hand  of  the  Victorian  restorer  through  the 
merciful  fact  that  the  Thorns  had  been  amongst  the 
poorest  gentry  in  England  until  Charles's  grandfather 
had  found  coal  on  a  small  estate  of  theirs  in  the  north. 
So  there  it  stood,  a  small,  squat  building,  looking  very 
nearly  akin  to  the  earth  from  which  it  sprung;  and 
there  Charles  Thorn,  its  present  lord,  lived  through 
three  interminable  days  of  unrelieved  misery  and 
suspense. 

He  had  made  up  his  mind  that  he  would  give 


206  YELLOWLEAF 

Aghassy  a  fair  chance,  and  he  kept  his  word ;  but  on 
the  morning  of  the  third  day  he  was  called  to  the  tele- 
phone, and  when  finally  he  could  hear  who  was  speak- 
ing, he  realized  that  it  was  Lily's  voice,  with  a  break 
and  a  quiver  in  it  that  made  him  grind  his  teeth  as  he 
listened. 

"  Is  that  you,  Charles  ?  "  it  said,  that  poor  little 
voice.  "  Oh,  why  don't  you  come  back  ?  What  are 
you  doing  there  so  long  ?  " 

He  forced  himself  to  say  he  had  been  busy;  and 
then  she  went  on :  "  I'm  at  the  underground  station. 
It's  so  cold  and  horrible  here.  Please  come  back! 
Can't  you  come  to-day  ?  " 

"  I'll  be  in  the  train  in  half  an  hour;  it's  quicker 
than  the  car.  But  what's  the  matter,  Lily?  I  must 
know  what  to  expect  when  I  get  there.  Is  Aunt  Mary 
all  right?" 

"  Yes,  yes! "  she  answered  impatiently,  as  if  Lady 
Mary  was  not  of  the  least  consequence.  "  It's  Jim, 
Charles.  It's  Jim.  Oh,  how  I  hate  America,  and  all 
those  nasty  Americans !  " 

He  knew  enough  now,  and  told  her  that  he  would 
come  at  once ;  and  after  listening  for  a  moment  to  the 
blankness  that  followed  her  hanging  up  of  the  receiver, 
went  and  told  his  man  to  get  his  things  ready,  and  less 
than  half  an  hour  later  was  in  the  train  bound  for 
London.  Bound  for  trouble,  bound,  he  knew,  for  help- 
less misery,  and  yet,  through  it  all,  both  ready  and 
glad  to  go. 


YELLOWLEAF  207 

n 

Thorn  had  a  latch-key,  but  as  he  bent  to  open  the 
door  with  it,  he  found  Bruno  crossing  the  hall  to  the 
dining-room  with  the  big  silver  tea-tray  in  his  hands. 
The  old  man  stood  still  as  the  door  opened,  staring 
over  the  debris  of  bread-and-butter  and  cake  and  tea- 
cups without  a  word,  and  Thorn,  who  had  spent  the 
time  in  the  train  foolishly  trying  to  persuade  himself 
that  nothing  was  wrong  but  Lily's  nerves,  stared  back 
at  him  in  uncontrollable  dismay.  "  Well,  Bruno ! " 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Thorn    .     .     .    tanti  scusi,  My  Lord !  " 

"What's  the  matter?" 

The  tray  was  very  heavy,  and  Bruno  looked  old 
and  shaky  as  he  went  into  the  dining-room  and  rid  him- 
self of  his  burden.  The  horrid  feeling  of  having  been 
there  before,  of  having  gone  through  the  whole  ghastly 
experience  somehow,  somewhere  or  other,  already, 
swept  over  Charles  with  the  horrid  weakening  effect 
that  most  people  know. 

"  How's  Master  Jim  ?  "  he  asked  sharply. 

Bruno  made  a  little  helpless  gesture.  "  There's  no 
Master  Jim,"  he  answered  sadly.  "  I'm  to  call  him 
Mr.  Dampierre." 

There  was  a  pause.  The  electric  light  was  turned 
on,  but  the  blinds  were  not  yet  drawn  down,  and  there 
was  in  the  room  the  curious  melancholy  that  comes  of 
the  mingling  of  artificial  with  natural  light  Thorn 
glanced  round  him,  and  everything  seemed  strange. 
The  clusters  of  beautiful  fruits  coloured  with  inimitable 
delicacy  and  richness,  the  heavy  ivory-coloured  cur- 
tains, stretching  in  long,  fine  sweeps  from  the  cornice 


208  YELLOWLEAF 

to  the  floor,  the  broad,  finely-polished  table  and  the 
pictures  of  still  life  under  the  lights — none  of  these 
things  seemed  real;  the  room  might  have  been  a  per- 
fectly strange  one.  Bruno  looked  odd  and  unsubstan- 
tial ;  Thorn  himself  felt  that  perhaps  he,  too,  with  his 
long,  bony  body,  and  his  ugly,  suffering  face,  just 
visible  in  a  blurred  mirror,  might  be  a  creature  of  his 
own  imagination.  . 

The  trouble  was,  it  seemed,  when  he  had  forced 
Bruno  to  speak,  that  Jimmy  was  so  changed,  so  terribly 
changed;  he  was  taller,  it  appeared,  than  any  youth 
of  nineteen  had  a  right  to  be ;  he  looked  ill,  and  incon- 
ceivably excited  and  nervous.  But  even  that  was  not 
the  worst ;  he  was  changed,  entirely,  changed ;  his  kind- 
liness and  all  his  childish  little  ways  had  gone,  and 
although  he  looked  so  dreadfully  ill,  no  one,  not  even 
his  lordship,  Bruno  thought,  would  dare  take  the  friend- 
liest, most  loving,  of  liberties  with  him. 

The  old  man's  poor  hands  shook  as  he  spoke,  for 
this  chronicle  was  dreadful  to  him.  "  Thank  God 
you're  back,  My  Lord !  "  he  murmured.  .  .  .  "  Dio  ne 
sia  lusingato ! " 

Having  been  told  that  Aghassy  and  Jimmy  were  out 
together,  Charles,  after  a  few  words  of  inadequate 
encouragement  to  the  old  servant,  made  his  way  quietly 
upstairs  to  Lily's  sitting-room.  She  was  huddled  over 
the  fire  with  a  shawl  over  her  shoulders,  and  when  she 
saw  him  she  gave  a  dreadful  little  wailing  cry  that 
was  very  nearly  his  undoing.  He  put  his  arms  round 
her  and  kissed  her  forehead  in  a  kind,  brotherly  way. 
Then  he  sat  down  and  bade  her  talk,  in  a  voice  of  such 
authority  that  she  could  not  disobey  him. 


YELLOWLEAF  209 

It  was  Jim,  she  said,  poor  little  Jinks,  who  was  so 
tall — so  tall  and,  oh,  so  dreadfully  changed 

"  Of  course  he's  changed,  dear;  it's  two  years  since 
you've  seen  him.  He  was  a  little  boy  when  he  went 
away,  and  now  he's  a — man." 

Jacques  Aghassy's  wife  looked  up,  her  face  dread- 
ful in  its  disregarded,  undisguised  abandonment  of  un- 
becoming grief.  "  He's  not  a  man,"  she  answered 
fiercely.  "  He's  not  a  man  at  all,  any  more  than  he's  a 
child — any  more  than  he's  a  baby;  he's — oh,  Charles! 
-he's  dreadful " 

Charles  noticed  that  her  eyeballs  had  a  horrid,  shiny 
look,  as  if  they  had  been  made  of  some  strange  marble 
that  he  had  never  seen  before.  "  A  boy  of  nineteen," 
he  murmured,  cursing  himself  for  his  own  feebleness, 
"  really  isn't  either  a  man  or  a  child,  he's  something 
betwixt  and  between.  .  .  . " 

Sitting  down,  he  drew  his  chair  closer  to  her  and 
took  her  dry  hot  hands.  "  Lily  dear,"  he  said,  "  you're 
not  being  reasonable,  and  you  must  be.  The  boy's 
been  through  an  exciting  time,  his  nerves  are  probably 
all  wrong.  .  .  .  Aghassy  naturally  would  not  under- 
stand that,  having  magnificent  nerves  himself.  .  .  ." 
As  he  spoke  he  felt  the  ridiculous,  tragic  falsity  of  his 
words;  it  was  a  part  of  the  whole  thing,  the  whole 
dreadful  fabric  that  had  been  woven  in  the  last  few 
years  in  the  dark  silence  of  the  old  house;  he  knew 
that  he  was  lying  with  his  heart,  if  not  altogether  with 
his  words.  Lily  looked  up,  her  little  worn  face  white 
as  a  candle.  "  You  don't  know,"  she  said  in  a  strangely 
quiet,  resentful  voice.  "  You  don't  know,  and  I  do. . . ." 
14 


210  YELLOWLEAF 

Suddenly  she  rose  and,  spreading  out  her  arms  with  a 
gesture  of  reckless  courage :  "  You  said  he  would  take 
care  of  him;  you  gave  me  your  word  of  honour  that 
you  thought  he  would;  and  now  he  brings  him  back 
like  .  .  .  this!  "  Her  eyes  looked  tired  and  hot,  as  if 
they  had  never  known  a  tear;  as  if  their  very  bright- 
ness would;  be  thteir  ruin.  Charles  thought  as  he 
watched  her  that  death,  torture,  annihilation,  anything 
would  be  better  than  this. 

"  Look  here,  Lily,"  he  said  suddenly,  standing  up. 
"  I  can't  stand  much  of  this.  You  don't  realize — you 
never  have — that  I  can  ache,  too.  I — I  think  I  will  go 
now  .  .  ."  and  he  made  for  the  door.  .  .  .  He  could 
remember  nothing  afterwards  of  his  stumbling  prog- 
ress to  his  own  room,  but  when  he  locked  his  door  he 
blundered  to  the  window,  which  he  wrenched  open, 
and  falling  on  his  knees,  stayed  there  for  a  long  time 
face  to  face  with  the  struggling,  cloud-trammelled 
moon.  He  swore,  he  protested,  he  blasphemed,  and  he 
prayed.  Then,  finally,  half -unconscious  of  what  he 
was  doing,  he  managed  to  get  his  clothes  off,  and  to  go 
to  bed,  when  he  slept  as  unconscious  as  any  dead  man 
of  them  all,  until  late  the  next  morning. 

in 

The  first  thing  that  Thorn  noticed  as  the  day  went 
on,  was  that,  whereas  young  Dampierre's  elaborately 
correct  clothes  bore  distinct  signs  of  their  transatlantic 
origin,  Aghassy's  might  that  morning  have  come  from 
his  London  tailor's.  But  for  his  queer  face  he  would 
have  looked  like  an  unusually  well-dressed  English 


YELLOWLEAF  211 

gentleman ;  but  the  boy  had  acquired  odd  gestures  and 
movements,  and  looked  like  the  unpleasant  American- 
Parisian  hybrids  who  consort  with  the  golden  youth 
of  Chili  and  Argentina  at  the  Ritz  in  Paris.  Besides 
the  fact  of  his  looking  desperately  ill,  his  face  had 
changed;  his  eyes  moved  too  quickly,  his  immature 
mouth  looked  weak,  and  his  lips  twitched  as  he  talked. 
And  he  did  talk!  His  volubility  positively  embar- 
rassed the  word-shy  folk  he  had  come  back  to.  It 
made  Thorn  feel,  and  for  all  his  travels  and  his  three 
languages,  a  primitive  islander  of  the  most  narrow 
type. 

At  dinner  he  chattered  in  the  spasmodic  way  that 
was  so  new  to  them,  describing  the  places  he  had  seen, 
the  people  he  had  met;  but  there  was  in  his  flow  of 
words  sudden,  grown-up  reticences,  quickly  repressed 
smiles  that  were  almost  grins,  at  things  remembered 
but  not  expressed. 

Aghassy,  who  listened  with  an  indulgent  air,  put- 
ting in  a  word  now  and  then,  once  or  twice  checked  a 
laugh  and  murmured  an  expostulation.  "  Oh,  come," 
he  said  once,  "  you  can't  tell  your  mother  and  grand- 
mother that,  you  know ! "  Adding  to  Lady  Mary 
with  an  irreproachable  air  of  fatherly  excuse :  "  He's 
a  young  villain,  you  know,  Lady  Mary." 

The  old  lady,  who  was  magnificent  that  evening  in 
lace  and  velvet  and  jewels,  listened  courteously,  her 
fine  little  face  expressive  of  polite  interest  and  amuse- 
ment. She  had  always  met  trouble  with  an  uplift  of 
spirit,  and  trouble  was  coming  now. 

"  Thank  God,"  she  thought,  "  that  I  am  so  much 


212  YELLOWLEAF 

stronger,  for  there's  going  to  be  the  very  devil  to  pay 
for  this." 

Lily  had  ordered  a  very  good  dinner  in  honour  of 
the  occasion,  and  taken  great  care  to  have  all  the 
favourite  dishes  of  the  travellers.  Oysters  there  were, 
and  turtle  soup — one  of  Aghassy's  few  degustatory 
weaknesses — asparagus,  shoulder  of  lamb,  and  game, 
and  plum-pudding  and  ices  for  Jimmy.  Aghassy  ex- 
pressed gratitude  at  her  thought  fulness,  but  the  boy  de- 
clared the  oysters  tasted  of  copper,  and  refused  the 
asparagus,  being  "fed  up"  with  the  better  foreign  kind. 

They  had  come  back  from  Australia  via  India,  and 
he  was  very  boyish  for  a  moment  as  he  described  the 
table  joys  of  that  wonderful  country.  "  The  curries 
are  perfectly  bully,"  he  declared,  "  not  a  bit  like  the 
English  ones;  and  as  for  the  fruit,  pawpaws  and  man- 
goes are  the  best  things  in  the  world !  " 

"  Did  you  see  Sir  William  Boleyn?  "  Lady  Mary 
asked.  "  I  wrote  to  him  about  you " 

Jimmy  glanced  at  Aghassy,  an  odd  look  in  his  face, 
and  it  was  Aghassy  who  answered : 

"  Yes,  we  saw  him,  but — we  weren't  exactly  a  suc- 
cess with  him,  were  we,  Jingle  ?  " 

His  smile  was  altogether  benevolent-looking,  but 
Lady  Mary  knew  that  it  exasperated  Thorn,  as  well 
as  herself,  almost  to  boiling-point 

Jim  scowled,  and  bit  his  nails.  "  No — I  made  a  fool 
of  myself — might  as  well  tell  you,  for  he's  sure  to 
write,  the  old  idiot " 

There  was  a  pause,  and  then  Lily  said  quietly: 
"  Well,  tell  us  what  it  was " 


YELLOWLEAF  213 

The  boy  looked  up  at  her,  plainly  touched  by  the 
sweetness  of  her  voice,  and  a  quick  flush  beautified  and 
made  more  familiar  his  thin  face.  "  I — it  was  an 
awfully  hot  evening,"  he  said  with  an  effort,  "  and  I — 
I  had  too  much  champagne " 

Lily  leaned  back  in  her  chair  as  if  she  had  had  a 
blow,  and  Aghassy  broke  in,  in  that  new  tolerant  air  of 
his.  "  Don't  exaggerate,  old  man,"  he  murmured.  "  It 
wasn't  so  very  bad " 

Jim  turned  on  him.  "  You  hold  your  tongue, 
Jacques,"  he  cried  fiercely.  "  It  was  bad.  I  was  beastly 
drunk,  Mother,  and — old  Boleyn  had  me  put  to  bed !  " 

Charles  raised  his  glass.  "Well  done,  Jinks!  I 
mean  your  owning  up,  naturally,  not  your  getting 
drunk!" 

Everyone  laughed  and  the  episode  was  over,  but 
Lady  Mary  caught  Charles's  eye,  and  each  of  them 
read  in  the  other's  a  new,  strong  determination. 

"  This  ends  our  old  way  of  going  on,"  their  eyes 
told  each  other.  "  To  the  deuce  with  our  idiotic 
silences.  After  this  we'll  talk!  " 

But  when  dinner  was  over  and  they  were  all  sit- 
ting once  more  in  Lady  Mary's  Corner,  things  were 
better. 

Aghassy  finished  his  coffee  quickly,  and  without  a 
word  went  to  the  piano. 

His  music  seemed  more  beautiful  than  ever  to  the 
three  stay-at-homes,  and  under  its  influence  they  were 
all  a  little  ashamed  of  their  terror  and  wrath  at  dinner. 
Jimmy  lay  down  on  a  little  sofa,  as  Aghassy  reminded 
him  to  do,  and  listened  with  his  eyes  shut.  Lady  Mary 


214  YELLOWLEAF 

watched  him;  his  mother  watched  him ;  Charles  watched 
him ;  and  then  they  exchanged  with  each  other  glances 
of  relief  and  hope. 

For  as  he  lay  there,  his  restless  eyes  shut,  his  nerves 
soothed  and  comforted  by  the  music,  he  looked  more 
of  the  child  Jimmy;  all  the  piteous,  ugly  expressions 
that  had  so  alarmed  them  were  softened  and  nearly 
obliterated. 

Aghassy  chose  his  music  with  his  usual  uncanny 
skill;  and  suddenly  in  the  middle  of  it  Charles  rose 
and  left  the  room.  He  felt  that  he  could  and  would 
not  be  cajoled  by  the  fellow's  playing;  there  was  a 
reckoning  between  Aghassy  and  him,  and  Aghassy 
should  not  evade  it.  .  H  .  It  was  a  cold,  punishing 
night,  but  Charles  took  up  a  hat  and  made  for  the 
open.  At  the  door  he  saw  Bruno  busy  in  the  drawing- 
room,  and  after  a  moment's  hesitation  he  went  in. 

"  I  say,  Bruno " 

"Yes,  My  Lord?" 

"  What  do  you  think  of  Mr.  Jim?  " 

Into  the  veiled,  reserved  mental  air  of  the  house  the 
abrupt,  direct  question  seemed  almost  to  crash. 

The  old  servant  drew  a  deep  breath  as  if  it  had 
cleared  the  atmosphere,  and  his  fine  eyes  glowed  with 
gratitude  as  he  answered  as  directly,  in  Italian :  "  It  is 
dreadful,  sir." 

Charles  nodded.  "Yes.  Appalling.  Telephone 
for  Doctor  Hesketh  the  first  thing  in  the  morning,  will 
you?  Tell  him  to  come  to  see  me." 

"Yes,  My  Lord.     ..." 

Thorn  turned  to  go,  but  at  the  door  be  looked  back. 


YELLOWLEAF  215 

"  We  are  in  for  a  bad  time,  Bruno,"  he  said  gravely, 
"but  we'll  come  through  all  right.  Thank  God  I'm 
joint  guardian,  and  he's  just  nineteen " 

"  Yes.  With  respect  speaking,  sir,  it  would  be  well 
if  you  talked  to  Her  Excellency  about  it.  .  .  ." 

"  Oh,  I  can't  tell  her — you  know — the  things  you 
told  me.  ..." 

"  Her  Excellency  will  not  be  surprised,  My  Lord," 
the  old  man  returned  with  perfect  calm.  "  She  doesn't 
know  what  La  Signora  Cussberson  told  me,  but  Her 
Excellency  is  extraordinarily  intelligent,  and  she  hates 
him,  too.  .  .  ." 

For  a  servant  to  call  his  mistress  "  extraordinarily 
intelligent  "  would  sound  odd  in  English,  but  in  Italian 
it  did  not  strike  Thorn  as  being  out  of  the  way ;  and, 
moreover,  he  knew  that  Bruno  was  right.  Lady  Mary's 
keen  mind  would,  now  that  the  web  was  going  to  be 
swept  away,  be  of  great  help  to  him  in  his  task.  So 
he  nodded :  "  Yes,  I  will  talk  to  Her  Excellency;  but — 
Bruno,  Mrs. — the  Signora  Lili  mustn't  know.  .  .  ." 

The  old  man  smiled  with  a  certain  hiss  of  respectful 
tolerance.  "  Ah,  My  Lord,"  he  declared,  "  the  poor 
Signora  Lili,  although  she  knows  no  facts,  realizes 
more  clearly  than  Her  Excellency  or  your  Lordship. 
Have  you  not  seen  how  she  fears  him  ?  " 

Then  he  added  softly,  voicing  the  hatred  that  Thorn 
knew  to  be,  in  himself,  so  dangerous:  "  May  he  have 
an  accident,  and  die  without  confession,  and  be  buried 
with  dogs.  .  .  ." 

Thorn  walked  up  and  down  the  blustery  road  for 
an  hour,  and  when  he  came  in  was  told  that  Lady  Mary 
wanted  him. 


216  YELLOWLEAF 

The  music  had  ceased,  and  Aghassy  and  the  two 
women  sat  by  the  newly  replenished  fire. 

"  Jimmy  has  gone  to  bed,"  Lady  Mary  explained, 
as  Thorn  glanced  at  the  sofa. 

He  sat  down,  and  for  a  moment  there  was  silence. 
The  silence  was  broken  in  a  surprising  way  by 
Aghassy,  who  gave  a  soft,  pleasant  laugh,  and  then 
said  to  Thorn :  "  Well,  Charles,  out  with  it !  You  are 
upset  about  Jim,  and  longing  to  tear  me  to  pieces, 
aren't  you  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  longing  to  tear  you  to  pieces,"  Thorn 
answered  quietly,  "  but  I  certainly,  as  the  boy's  other 
guardian,  wish  an  explanation.  Why  have  you  allowed 
him  to  get  into  this  condition?  " 

Aghassy  turned  to  his  wife.  "  What  did  I  tell  you, 
darling  ?  "  he  said  whimsically.  "  He  thinks  it  all  my 
fault!" 

Thorn  rose.  "  Look  here,  Aghassy,"  he  said,  his 
face  and  voice  very  stern,  "  we  must  have  a  long  talk, 
you  and  I,  and  it  isn't  going  to  be  a  very  pleasant  one. 
Shall  we  go  to  your  study,  or  will  you  come  up  to  my 
room  ?  " 

Aghassy,  too,  got  up.  His  face  had  changed. 
"  Wherever  you  like,"  he  returned. 

There  was  a  pause,  which  Lady  Mary's  voice  broke. 
"  Sit  down,  both  of  you.  This  matter  of  Jim  concerns 
his  mother  and  grandmother  quite  as  much  as  it  does 
his  stepfather  and  second  cousin." 

Aghassy  stared  at  her.  It  was  the  first  time  she  had 
ever  openly  challenged  him.  After  a  moment  he  sat 
down,  crossing  his  legs,  and  taking  out  his  little  bag 
of  tobacco  and  his  case  of  cigarette-papers.  "  Just  as 


YELLOWLEAF  217 

you  wish,  Lady  Mary,"  he  said  courteously.  '  There 
are  things  about  the  boy  I  should  rather  not  have  told 
Lily  and  you,  but  as  you  insist.  .  .  ."  He  shrugged 
his  shoulders. 

Thorn  had  remained  standing,  and  after  a  moment 
he  said  quietly :  "  You  are  right,  Aunt  Mary,  and 
neither  you  nor  Lily  will  be  foolish  enough  to  object  to 
plain  speaking.  .  .  .  Aghassy,  I  repeat  my  question, 
why  have  you  let  your  wife's  son  get  into  this  horrible 
condition?  " 

"  You  exaggerate,  of  course,  but  I'll  answer  you. 
Jim  has  given  me  very  serious  trouble,  and  I  have  been 
most  worried  about  him;  but  there's  no  doubt  but  he'll 
come  through  all  right  if  .  .  ."  he  paused  and  glanced 
at  Thorn,  "if  you  are  patient  enough  with  him!" 

"  Well,  upon  my  word !  "  It  was  Lady  Mary  who 
burst  out,  voicing  in  the  homely  exclamation  the  ridicu- 
lous, helpless  resentment  they  all  felt  at  this  brilliantly 
skilful  turning  of  the  tables.  Aghassy  smiled;  it  was 
plain  to  Charles  that  a  row  was  the  last  thing  the  fellow 
wanted.  "  Yes,  I  mean  it — patient.  He's  not  a  bit 
worse  than  lots  of  other  boys  of  his  age,  but  severity — 
too  great  severity — might  drive  him  to  anything.  As 
you  suggest,  Thorn,  Jinks  is  only  my  stepson,  but  I 
daresay  I  know  him  better,  as  he  now  is,  than  any  of 
you." 

"  No  doubt  you  do,"  Lady  Mary  agreed,  "  and  as 
you  do,  suppose  you — explain  him  to  us." 

Aghassy  lit  a  cigarette.  "  There's  nothing  particu- 
lar to  explain.  He's  wild,  and  a  bit  fast — smokes  too 
much,  drinks  too  much,  and  took  to  cards  as  readily  as 
I  understand  his  father  did  at  his  age " 


2i8  YELLOWLEAF 

"  Wait  a  minute,  Jacques,"  Lily,  who  had  kept  an 
unbroken  silence  till  now,  interrupted  him  sharply. 
"  Please  don't  mention  my  husband.  I — won't  have  it" 

To  Thorn's  amazement  this  remark  seemed  to 
cause  Aghassy  keen  pain ;  he  darted  a  jealous  glance  at 
his  wife.  "  Your  first  husband,"  he  corrected  her.  "  I 
meant  no  harm,  Lily.  There's  no  harm  in  saying  that 
as  a  boy  he  gambled." 

"  None  at  all,  Lily.    Go  on,  Jacques." 

As  she  spoke,  Lady  Mary  leaned  forward  and  took 
her  daughter-in-law's  hand,  and  held  it  in  hers  as  the 
talk  went  on. 

"  I've  done,  naturally,  all  I  could  to  make  the  young 
beggar  see  reason,"  Aghassy  went  on,  in  a  very  con- 
vincing way.  "  I  even  got  a  doctor  to  threaten  him 
with  illness,  but " 

Thorn  looked  up.  "A  doctor!  Look  here, 
Aghassy,  this  is  all  very  well  and  very  clever.  You  are 
a  good  deal  cleverer  than  I,  but  you  can't  put  me  off 
with  words.  That  Jim  likes  drink  and  cards  is  not  the 
point — though  it  was  you  who  taught  him  to  like  wine ; 
the  point  is  that  not  only  is  his  health  wrecked,  but  his 
mind  is  all  wrong.  If  I  thought  you'd  understand  me 
I'd  say  that  you've  got  his  soul  all  wrong." 

Lily  squeezed  the  old  lady's  delicate  hand  so  hard 
that  it  hurt.  Charles  had  said  it  now,  said  straight 
out  what  they  had  all  been  thinking,  and  there  was  a 
relief  in  coming  out  into  the  storm  after  being,  so  to 
say,  huddling  in  a  stuffy,  unhygienic  shelter. 

"  Yes — his  soul,"  Lily  murmured.  Then  she  rose. 
"  I'm  going  up  to  him,  Mamma,"  she  said;  "  after  all, 
he  is  only  a  child,  and  I'm  going  to  talk  to  him.  .  .  ." 


YELLOWLEAF  219 

They  let  her  go  on  the  errand  they  all  felt  to  be 
hopeless,  and  when  the  door  had  closed,  Thorn  said  to 
his  aunt  that  she  had  better  let  him  and  Aghassy  leave 
her  and  finish  their  talk  alone. 

"  Will  you  come  up  to  my  room?  "  he  added,  turn- 
ing fiercely  to  Aghassy. 

Aghassy  gazed  at  him,  a  green  light  in  his  slanting 
eyes. 

"  Your  room,"  he  repeated  slowly  and  very  softly. 
"  May  I  ask  if  you  have  been — er — living  here  during 
the  two  years  of  my  absence  ?  " 

"  Yes.  As  my  guest."  The  old  woman's  voice  was 
in  marked  contrast  to  his,  in  its  incisive  authority. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  may  I  observe  that,  though 
the  house  is  yours,  my  wife  is — mine !  " 

"Aghassy!" 

Thorn  took  a  step  forward,  and  Aghassy  had  risen, 
but  it  was  Lady  Mary  who  spoke. 

"  Charles,  hold  your  tongue !  Can't  you  see  what 
he's  trying  to  do  ?  He  wants  to  force  you  to  quarrel, 
so  " — the  old  woman  was  so  erect  in  her  chair  that  it 
seemed  as  if  she  was  about  to  step  out  of  it — "  so  that 
you  will  have  to  go  away  and  leave  Jimmy  to  him !  " 

For  a  moment  Aghassy  was  at  a  loss,  and  stood 
with  his  lowered  head  moving  from  side  to  side,  like  an 
angry  bull  not  knowing  where  to  charge.  Then  he 
laughed.  "  Very  well,"  he  said ;  "  I've  tried  to  keep  the 
peace,  but  you  want  war,  and  you  shall  have  it.  Your 
precious  young  Jim  is  as  scoundrelly  a  little  beast  as 
I  ever  saw  in  my  life — though  I'm  fond  of  him  in  a 
way — and  I  am  doing  my  best  to  help  him  through  his 
bad  years.  But " — he  paused  and  stared  dully  and 


220  YELLOWLEAF 

menacingly  at  Thorn — "  I  don't  mean  to  stand  any 
interference  with  my  stepson  from  a  man  who  only 
stays  here  because  he's  in  love  with  my  wife." 

Thorn  in  his  helplessness  barely  stifled  a  groan,  and 
Lady  Mary  answered  for  him. 

"  Don't  be  an  utter  ass,  Jacques,"  she  shot  at  him, 
"  and  don't  pretend  to  be  stupid.  Of  course  Charles 
is  in  love  with  Lily.  He  has  been  for  twenty-five 
years.  She's  probably  the  only  person  in  the  world 
who  doesn't  know  it.  But  you  know  as  well  as  I  that 
that  old  feeling — which  is  as  much  a  part  of  himself  as 
his  head  is — has  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  his  feel- 
ing for  Jimmy.  He's  the  boy's  guardian,  and  he 
objects  to  the  way  you've  used  your  powers  during  the 
last  two  years,  and  so  do  I,  and  therefore  your  powers 
have  got  to  be  weakened.  That's  all." 

There  was  something  very  fine  in  the  crippled  old 
woman's  dauntlessness,  there  between  the  two  power- 
ful, deeply  stirred  men,  and  each,  in  his  way,  paid 
tribute  to  her. 

Thorn  laid  his  hand  on  her  shoulder,  saying  simply : 
"  Thank  you,  Aunt  Mary — I'm  going  now  .  .  ."  and 
Aghassy  bowed  in  his  un-English  way. 

"  You  are  a  good  enemy,  Lady  Mary,"  he  mur- 
mured, "  and,  though  you  are  very  unjust  to  me,  I  ad- 
mire you.  Thorn  and  I  will  go  on  with  our  talk  tomor- 
row and  come  to  some  decision .  Good-night." 

At  that  he  left  them,  and  through  two  closed  doors 
they  heard  him  playing  his  own  piano  very  quietly. 

Lady  Mary  looked  up  at  her  nephew.  "  Poor 
Charles !  "  she  said  gently.  "  I'm  sorry  he  knows,  but 
it  doesn't  really  matter  much  .  .  . " 


YELLOWLEAF  221 

He  shook  his  head.    "  No,  that  doesn't  matter- 


Thank   God   you   were   here   when — when   he    said 
that " 

"  Yes.  You  mustn't  see  him  alone  to-morrow.  Re- 
member, if  you  quarrel  there  will  be  no  one  to  help 
Jim " 

He  turned  to  the  fire  for  a  moment,  and  when  he 
looked  round  she  saw  that  his  eyes  were  wet. 

"  I  do  love  her,  Aunt  Mary,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice, 
"  and  I  ought  to  go;  I — I  suppose  I  should  not  have 
stayed  on,  but — but  on  my  honour,  it  never  entered  my 
mind  to  do  anything  but  stay  .  .  ." 

"  Of  course  it  didn't,  my  dear,"  she  returned,  her 
remarkable  lashes  shining  with  the  scant  tears  of  old 
age;  "  this  is  your  home." 

The  deep-voiced  clock  in  the  hall  struck  half-past 
eleven,  and  Thorn  started. 

We  must  get  Arthur  Hesketh  to  insist  on  school 
a  crammer's;  he  can  say  regular  hours,  etc.,  are 
necessary  for  his  health.  I — I  can't  stay  on  here.  I 
couldn't  do  it,"  he  finished,  a  little  wildly.  "  It  isn't 
quite  what  you  think,  Aunt  Mary — I  mean,  it  isn't  just 
a — a  calm  affection " 

She  laughed.  "  You  gaby!  Of  course  it  isn't!  I'd 
have  died  years  ago  if  it  had  been.  Oh,  I  know.  I've 
seen  you  suffer,  my  poor  Charles !  " 

Their  extraordinary  frankness,  now  that  the  bar- 
riers were  down,  did  not  strike  either  of  them.  He 
bent  and  kissed  her  soft  old  cheek. 

"Good-night — and  thanks.  I've  been  a  fool;  I 
thought  no  one  knew,  but — I'm  glad  you  do.  .  .  " 


CHAPTER  XVII 


THE  next  day  passed  without  any  further  talk  be- 
tween Thorn  and  Aghassy,  for  at  dawn  Drake,  a  fright- 
ful vision  in  her  deshabille,  waked  Thorn  with  the 
news  that  Lady  Mary  was  very  ill,  "  Mrs.  Aghassy 
told  me  to  call  you,  My  Lord,"  the  woman  added  acidly, 
"  though  there's  nothing  you  can  do — Mr.  Aghassy  is 
a  wonderful  hand  in  a  sick-room " 

Thorn,  who  had  turned  on  the  light,  sat  up  in  bed 
staring  at  her  with  the  dazed  feeling  of  a  sound  sleeper 
suddenly  and  unhappily  wakened.  "  Mr.  Aghassy," 

he  murmured.  "  She  won't  like  that I'll  come 

at  once,  Drake,"  he  added,  pulling  himself  together, 
and  she  turned  to  the  door,  but  he  called  her  back. 

"  Has  anyone  telephoned  for  the  doctor  ?  " 

"  Yes,  My  Lord.  Bruno  did,  half  an  hour  ago.  I 
believe  Sir  Arthur  is  on  his  way  now " 

Thorn  dressed  quickly  and  went  downstairs,  curs- 
ing himself  and  Aghassy  for  their  idiocy  in  quarrelling 
before  a  woman  as  ill  and  as  old  as  his  valorous  aunt. 

"  I  ought  to  have  known — he'd  never  seen  her  really 
bad,"  he  muttered,  struggling  to  be  fair  to  the  man  he 
hated. 

He  found  order  and  quiet  in  Lady  Mary's  room,  for 
even  in  illness  the  old  woman  could  not  endure  confu- 
sion, or  fussing.  A  fire  burnt  brightly  on  the  hearth ; 
one  of  the  windows  was  wide  open,  the  curtains  drawn 

222 


YELLOWLEAF  223 

back,  the  blind  up;  and  Lily,  very  composed,  though 
as  pale  as  a  linen  cloth,  sat  by  the  bed,  holding  her 
mother-in-law's  hand,  which  she  was  stroking  gently. 

Lady  Mary,  looking  incredibly  old  and  very  little, 
had  been  propped  high  up  against  the  pillows,  and  lay 
with  her  eyes  shut,  her  lips,  bluish  and  pinched,  slightly 
parted.  She  breathed  faintly  and  with  an  unconscious 
effort,  and  when  she  heard  Thorn  come  in  she  looked  at 
him  and  tried  to  smile,  and  whispered  something  about 
being  a  tiresome  old  thing. 

"  She's  all  right  now,  Lily  said  gently,  "  but  I  knew 
you'd  want  to  come  down.  .  „ " 

He  nodded.  "  Shall  I  go  and  make  you  some 
coffee?"  he  asked,  anxious  to  get  out  of  the  room 
where  Aghassy,  fully  dressed,  but  wearing  an  old  vel- 
vet jacket,  was  sitting. 

"Oh  yes,  do.     .     .     ." 

As  he  left  the  room  he  found  to  his  surprise  and 
annoyance  that  Aghassy  had  followed  him. 

"  Look  here,  Thorn — beg  pardon,  I  haven't  got 
used  to  your  new  name  yet — she  is  very  ill,  the  old 
lady,  and  I  fear  it  was  our  fault,  yours  and  mine." 

Thorn  nodded  impatiently.  "  Yes,  but  that  can't  be 
helped  now.  .  .  . " 

Aghassy  eyed  him  as  if  something  in  him  was  at 
once  strange  and  interesting.  "Of  course  it  can't,  but 
she  mustn't  be  worried  again.  We  must  make  a — 
what  d'you  call  it? — a  truce.  I'll  agree  to  anything 
you  like  about  Jimmy.  .  .  . " 

Thorn  looked  at  him  coldly.  "  Until  she's  better, 
you  mean !  I'm  a  bad  liar,  but  she  certainly  must  have 
peace  of  mind  for  a  few  days." 


224  YELLOWLEAF 

Aghassy  laughed.  "  I'm  a  fairly  decent  liar,  and 
as  you  suggest,  I'll  do  the  talking."  Suddenly  his  face 
changed  and  softened,  and  he  went  on  in  another  voice : 
"  She's  a  magnificent  old  woman,  Thorn,  and  whether 
you  believe  it  or  not,  I — I  like  her !  " 

He  spoke  the  truth,  and  Thorn  knew  it.  "  I  believe 
it,"  he  answered  grudgingly,  for  he  was  not  so  pliable 
as  his  enemy,  and  could  not  change  his  moods  so  easily. 

"  But  if  you  like  her  you  might  behave  decently 
about  the  boy.  She  adored  Dampierre,  Jim's  father, 
and  it's  him  more  than  the  scene  last  night  that  is  kill- 
ing her " 

Aghassy  shrugged  his  shoulders,  all  the  softness 
gone  out  of  his  face.  "  We  can  discuss  Jim  later,"  he 
answered.  "  For  the  time  being  you  and  I  are  to  pre- 
tend that — that  you  don't  long  to  murder  me,  and  that 
I'm  not  sick  with  boredom  at  the  sight  of  you.  .  .  ." 

Without  answering  him,  Thorn  went  on  to  the  din- 
ing-room and  set  about  making  the  coffee.  As  he  did 
so  he  suddenly  remembered  the  morning  five  years  ago 
when  he  found  the  young  Jim  and  Picotee  "  killing  the 
worm,"  and  discussing  their  mother's  engagement. 

As  the  memory  of  Jimmy's  child-face  came  back  to 
him  with  the  distinctness  common  to  highly  nervous 
conditions,  he  caught  himself  groaning  aloud.  Dear 
little  crooked-smiling  Jinks,  what  a  funny,  dear  little 

chap  he  had  been  and  now "  Bruno,"  he  burst  out, 

as  the  old  man  came  in  bringing  milk  and  toast  on  a 
tray,  "  I  wish  to  God  I  had  died  before  the  Signora 
Lili  married  again " 

Bruno,  who  looked  very  sallow  and  old  after  his 


YELLOWLEAF  225 

alarm,  set  down  the  tray.  "  Ah,  Signer  Carlo,"  he 
answered,  quite  forgetting  his  manners,  "  why  didn't 
you  ask  her  first?  " 

Charles,  too,  forgot  his  manners — and  other  things. 
"  She  wouldn't  have  had  me,"  he  murmured,  tacitly 
admitting  it  all. 

"  Ah,  yes,  The  Signorina  Lili  would  have  said  yes, 
in  those  days,  to  anyone  who — who  really  wanted  her. 
There  are  women,"  the  old  philosopher  went  on 
dreamily,  standing  there  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  space, 
"  who  want  to  love — chi  vogliono  amare;  and  others 
who — who  need  to  be  loved " 

After  this  highly  out-of -place  speech  the  two  men 
came  to  their  daylight  senses,  and  Bruno,  who  of  late 
had  begun  to  walk  as  very  old  men  walk,  hardly  lift- 
ing his  feet  from  the  ground,  shuffled  away  to  his  secret 
regions  behind  green  baize  doors. 

Thorn  went  on  making  his  coffee,  and,  when  it  was 
ready,  arranged  Lady  Mary's  tray,  with  its  beautiful 
brass  accoutrements,  and  carried  it  to  her  room. 
Aghassy  still  sat  by  the  fire;  Lily  still  sat  by  the  bed; 
Drake,  in  her  element,  her  demeanour,  Thorn,  who 
detested  her,  had  to  admit,  not  only  excusing  but  justi- 
fying her  position  in  the  household,  standing  near  the 
invalid.  Near  her  stood  a  small,  slight  man  with  dart- 
ing, light  brown  eyes  and  a  sensitive  mouth :  Sir  Arthur 
Hesketh  of  Harley  Street. 

"  Hullo,  Charles !  what  have  you  got  there  ?  Oh, 
coffee !  "  The  great  little  man  sniffed  audibly.  "  It  is 
coffee !  I  hope  you  have  a  cup  for  me  ?  " 

A  few  moments  later  Doctor  Hesketh  and  Charles 


226  YELLOWLEAF 

Thorn  stood  at  the  door  of  the  conservatory,  taking 
leave  of  each  other. 

"  What  started  it?  "  Hesketh  asked. 

"  A  row.    My  fault — mine  and  Aghassy's n 

Hesketh  nodded.  "  I  see.  Now  look  here, 
Charles,"  the  little  baronet  went  on  forcefully,  "  I'll 
tell  you  this  much  straight.  Lady  Mary  hasn't  long  to 
live  under  the  best  of  conditions,  and  if  you  and  that — 
that  beastly  bounder — quarrel  before  her  she  won't  live 
a  month !  " 

Never  had  Thorn  so  liked  the  tyrannical  little  man 
as  he  did  now,  on  hearing  him  call  Aghassy  a  bounder. 

"  We're  not  going  to  quarrel,  Hesketh.  To  do  the 
fellow  justice  it  was  he  who  suggested  a  truce  till  she 
is  better " 

Hesketh  nodded.  "  Good !  It  doesn't  matter  who 
suggested  it,  but  there  must  be  peace,  or  Mary  Dam- 
pierre  will  die.  That's  all.  Now  you  know."  And 
he  took  his  leave. 

ii 

It  was  not  so  much  Lady  Mary's  bodily  weakness, 
though  that  was  very  great,  as  her  exhaustion  of  will, 
that  so  alarmed  those  who  loved  her.  For  three  days 
she  lay  there,  limp  and  indifferent,  the  very  ghost  of 
her  voluntary,  vivid  self,  and  so  strong  was  her  influ- 
ence, even  now  in  its  suspension,  that  like  the  beasts 
in  the  fable  the  two  men  who  hated  each  other  so  in- 
tensely lay  down,  as  the  saying  goes,  like  the  lion  and 
the  lamb,  together. 

Aghassy's  peculiar,  incongruous  passion  for  mak- 
ing little  gifts  expressed  itself,  during  those  days,  in  a 


YELLOWLEAF  227 

series  of  offerings  of  flowers,  and  never  were  flowers 
chosen  with  greater  taste  and  discrimination.  Once 
he  brought  in  two  deep  orange-coloured  roses  in  a 
small,  straight,  rock-crystal  vase  that  had  cost  many 
pounds,  but  might,  so  far  as  Lily  and  Charles  knew, 
have  cost  a  shilling.  Once  he  brought  a  great  sheaf 
of  white  lilacs;  and  another  day  he  sent,  through 
Jimmy,  with  his  love,  a  handful  of  lilies  of  the  valley. 
His  anxiety  about  the  old  lady,  being  perfectly  sincere, 
could  not  fail  to  touch  his  wife,  and  Thorn  knew,  with 
a  pang,  that  she  was  sorry  for  her  outburst  to  him  in 
her  room  that  night.  Jacques,  after  all,  was  very  kind, 
he  could  see  her  thinking,  and  she  had  been  very 
wicked  to  say  what  she  had  said ! 

She  avoided  Thorn  whenever  she  could,  and  he 
knew  that  she  was  trying,  in  the  piteous  feminine  way, 
to  get  back  her  lost  faith  in  the  man  who  was  her  hus- 
band. Lady  Mary's  illness,  then,  seemed  for  a  time  to 
be  setting  things  right.  Jimmy  sat  for  hours  in  his 
grandmother's  Corner,  just  outside  the  bedroom  door 
— as  good,  his  mother  said,  as  a  lamb.  He  did  not 
smoke;  his  distressing  little  mannerisms  disappeared; 
he  seemed,  though  sad,  younger  and  more  English  than 
he  had  been,  and  to  everyone's  relief  Aghassy  seemed 
delighted  by  the  change. 

But  one  afternoon  Lady  Mary,  who  for  the  last 
twenty-four  hours  had  been  better,  and  more  able  to 
notice  what  was  going  on  round  her,  spoke  to  Thorn 
about  Aghassy,  who  was  in  his  room  practising. 

"  Charles." 

"  Yes,  Aunt  Mary " 


228  YELLOWLEAF 

"  Come  here,"  the  old  lady  went  on,  a  little  glow  of 
fire  in  her  spent  eyes.  "  I'm  as  weak  as  a  cat,  and  I 
wish  to  utter  a  word  of  wisdom " 

Charles  bent  over  her,  and  she  said,  laughing 
weakly,  pointing  to  the  drawing-room  door;  "  Jinks  is 
there?" 

He  nodded. 

"  Jacques  likes  me,  you  know,"  she  resumed  after  a 
pause.  "  He  doesn't  want  to,  but  he  can't  help  it,  I'm 
so — so  fascinating." 

"  You  are,  you  wicked  old  woman !  " 

She  chuckled.  "  Yes,  that's  what  I  am — a  wicked 
old  woman  in  a  golden  bed.  I  spiked  his  guns,  though, 
and  yours,  you  bloodthirsty  fellow,  by  nearly  dying, 
didn't  I?"  " 

"  You  did.    You  scared  the  life  out  of  all  of  us." 

"  Charles."  She  was  suddenly  grave,  and  he  took 
her  hand  and  looked  seriously  down  at  her.  "  Charles, 
you  mustn't  let  him  fool  you." 

"  I  don't  mean  to,"  he  returned  grimly. 

"  Good.  He's  full  of  brains,  you  know ;  more  brains 
than  Lily  and  you  and  me  together." 

He  nodded,  and  after  a  pause  she  went  on,  speaking 
with  difficulty,  but  eagerly,  and  considering  each  word 
before  she  uttered  it: 

"  It's  the  money,  you  know,  that  he  wants.  He 
means  to  get  Jimmy  completely — under  his  thumb.  If 
Jimmy  was  not  going  to  be  rich,  he  would  let  him 
alone " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  could  leave  my  money  away  from  Jimmy,  but — 
I  can't  touch  your  uncle's,  and  poor  Jim's " 


YELLOWLEAF  229 

After  a  pause  she  resumed :  "  Charles,  as  soon  as 
I'm  well,  you  and  he  will  be  at  it  hammer  and  tongs — 
/  know  that " 

"  So  do  I !  " 

"  And  if  it  wouldn't  endanger  your  neck,  I'd  be  glad 
to  hold  the  candle  while  you  murdered  him " 

"  I  only  wish  you  would,  Aunt  Mary !  " 

"  But  cunning  is  the  only  thing  we  can  use  against 
him.  Cunning.  And  you  have  about  as  much  of  that 
as — as  a  Bath  bun." 

"  Hesketh  has  told  him,  before  me  and  Lily — I 
made  him — that  the  boy  will  die  if  he  doesn't  lead  a 
perfectly  regular,  quiet  life " 

The  old  woman  seemed  unimpressed  by  this  infor- 
mation. "  Of  course.  And  of  course  Jacques  knows 
that  you  told  him  to  say  it!  Oh,  my  poor  Charles! " 
After  a  minutes  she  went  on :  "  Has  he  said  anything 
to  you  about  Arthur  Hesketh's  advice?  " 

"  No,  not  a  word ;  I've  hardly  seen  him,  you  know." 

Lady  Mary  lay  staring  at  the  hangings.  "  I  could 
shake  Lily  when  I  think  that  it  was  she  who  refused 
to  let  the  boy  go  to  school  just  after  their  marriage. 
What  a  mess  she's  got  us  all  into !  " 

Thorn  nodded.  "  Yes,  but  that's  spilt  milk.  Hes- 
keth says  that  considering  his  height,  and  the  irregular 
way  he's  evidently  been  living,  Jimmy's  health  is  not  so 
bad  as  he  would  have  expected;  but  the  Lord  knows 
it's  bad  enough,  and  Hesketh  is  as  anxious  as  we  are  to 
get  him  somewhere  where  the  hours  are  regular, 
and  so  on." 

Lady  Mary  nodded.    "  You  may  not  know  it,"  she 


230  YELLOWLEAF 

said,  "  but  Jimmy  smells  a  rat.  He  told  me  this  morn- 
ing that  he  knew  you  were  trying  to  bully  Jacques — 
'  poor  Jacques,'  he  called  him — into  sending  him  to 
school.  Jacques  has  managed  to  put  his  back  up 
against  you,  Charles !  " 

"  I  thought  he  had,  but  that  doesn't  matter.  Lily  is 
much  happier  about  him,  and  it  seems  that  Aghassy 
has  been  taking  great  care  of  his  health.  He  bought 
him  all  kinds  of  wonderful  American  underclothes,  and 
a  fur-lined  coat,  and  he's  taken  quarts  of  medicine — 
tonics  and  things  that  Jacques  got  for  him " 

Lady  Mary  made  an  impatient  gesture.  "  Non- 
sense, my  dear!  don't  you  be  fooled  by  that  kind  of 
thing.  If  he  had  kept  the  boy  shut  up  in  a  box  of 
cotton-wool,  the  condition  he's  in  now  would  only  prove 
that  a  box  of  cotton-wool  is  bad  for  him !  Keep  your 
eye  on  the  main  fact  that  Jimmy  is  in  a  very  dangerous 
state,  and  the  fault  is  Jacques's.  What  we  have  got  to 
do,  by  hook  or  crook — and  I  wish  we  were  better 
equipped  for  the  crook  side  of  it — is  to  get  him  away 
at  once,  out  of  Jacques's  hands.  He  adores  Jacques, 
and  it  will  be  a  hard  tussle;  but  we  can  do  it  if  we 
don't  waste  time,  and,  above  all,  if  you  and  Lily  don't 
waste  your  energy  and  strength  in  trying  to  be  strictly 
just  to  Jacques,  who  doesn't  care  a  button  for  justice 
or  anything  else,  except  getting  his  own  way !  " 

Thorn  nodded^  "  You're  right  there,  but  at  the 
same  time  one  must  be  fair,  and  personally  I'm  always 
more  comfortable  for  giving  the  devil  his  due." 

"  I  know  you  are,  and  like  many  very  nice  people 
you  mistake  comfort  for  a  sense  of  «qyity,  which  is 


YELLOWLEAF  231 

ridiculous.  Now  I  am  quite  aware,"  she  went  on,  "  that 
you  think  you  are  being  very  wise  in  putting  off  this 
question  of  Jimmy  until  I'm  well  again,  and  that  is 
exactly  where  you're  wrong.  So  far  as  Jacques  goes 
I  am  at  my  very  strongest  when  I'm  ill,  and  the  weaker 
the  better !  So  I  mean  to  have  it  out  with  him  this  very 
afternoon,  and  I  want  you  to  go  off  somewhere,  and 
stay  away  for  several  hours.  There's  going  to  be  no 
nonsense  about  abstract  justice  in  this  business,  and  I 
mean  to  run  it  myself. 

"  I  don't  care  a  straw  what  Arthur  Hesketh  said. 
Suppose  I  do  die  a  month  or  two  earlier  than  I  need, 
that's  my  business,  and  it  would  be  well  worth  while  if, 
through  doing  it,  I  can  save  Jimmy.  Because  that's 
what  it  comes  to." 

in 

Thorn  wasted  no  time  in  arguing  with  her,  and, 
after  a  word  of  warning  to  Bruno,  did  as  he  was  told, 
and  betook  himself  to  the  Zoo,  a  place  for  which  he 
had  a  strange  liking,  and  the  society  of  whose  various 
inhabitants  sometimes  seemed  to  him  more  comfort- 
ing, in  their  single-mindedness  and  frankness  of  pur- 
pose, than  that  of  a  community  of  human  beings.  As 
he  stood  looking  at  the  greatest  of  the  lions  there  was 
relief  to  him  in  the  thought  that  the  beast  was  saying  in 
its  own  language :  "  What  I  should  like  to  do  better 
than  anything  in  the  world,  and  what,  if  I  could,  I 
should  do  without  any  temporizing,  is  to  claw  you  to 
death,  and  eat  the  tenderest  parts,  and  leave  your  clothes 
and  your  bones  to  the  vultures."  This  seemed  to  him 
a  much  more  gentlemanly  standpoint  than  Aghassy's, 


232  YELLOWLEAF 

for  instance,  for  Aghassy,  with  all  his  extraordinary 
cleverness,  was  full  of  deceit  and  guile,  although  Thorn 
knew  that  he,  too,  would  have  liked  to  crunch  his  bones. 
.  .  .  He  strolled  away  to  where  the  lynx  dwelt  in 
solitary  splendour.  Lady  Mary  had  once  said  to  him 
that  Aghassy's  eyes  were  like  those  of  the  lynx,  and  it 
seemed  to  Charles  now  that  the  creature's  whole  face 
and  expression  resembled  those  of  his  enemy.  The 
queerly  flattened  head  of  the  caged  animal  really  re- 
minded him  strangely  of  Aghassy's,  and  he  turned 
away  from  it  hastily,  just  as  he  always  turned  from 
the  man. 

In  the  snake-house  he  found  a  little  party  of  three 
watching  the  great  constrictors  in  their  glass  cases; 
a  fat,  good-tempered  looking  man,  a  handsome  woman 
of  markedly  fine  carriage,  and  a  little  boy  in  Highland 
kit — a  little  boy  about  six  or  seven.  The  child  was 
delighted  with  a  certain  huge,  evil-looking  captive,  and 
kept  calling  to  the  other  two  to  admire  his  favourite. 
"  Aoh,  Mummy,"  he  cried,  "  here's  a  beauty !  "  But 
the  tall  woman  and  the  man  were  talking  earnestly 
together,  and  took  no  heed  of  him.  The  child,  evi- 
dently spoilt,  and  used  to  a  good  deal  of  attention, 
showed  resentment  at  this  neglect  by  standing  on  ona 
leg  and  twisting  the  other  leg  round  it,  and  writhing 
with  hunched  shoulders,  while  he  called  fretfully : 
"  Uncle  Wolf,  Uncle  Wolf,  stop  talking,  and  come  and 
lift  me  up.  I  want  to  see  these  ones  here !  " 

As  the  child  spoke,  Thorn  got  a  glimpse  of  the 
mother's  face,  and  saw  that  she  was  too  deeply  im- 
mersed in  trouble  of  some  kind  even  to  hear  the  dis- 


YELLOWLEAF  233 

agreeable  little  Cockney  voice ;  so  he  bent  down  to  the 
child,  and  swung  him  up  so  that  he  could  look  down 
through  the  glass  where  two  beautiful  puce-coloured 
gentlemen  from  Africa  lay  staring  up,  with  odious  dull 
eyes. 

"  Here  you  are,"  he  said  to  the  youngster.  "  How 
would  you  like  to  have  one  of  these  for  a  pet?  " 

The  little  boy  laughed,  showing  a  gap  where  two  of 
his  front  teeth  had  been.  "  I've  got  a  dog,"  he  said, 
"  and  a  cat,  and  Uncle  Wolf  gave  me  a  canary.  Have 
you  got  a  canary  ?  " 

Thorn  set  him  down  and  led  him  away  towards  the 
far  end  of  the  room.  Even  in  the  snake-house  at  the 
Zoo  he  found  human  trouble  and  friction;  but  he  was 
fond  of  children,  and  the  little  boy,  consoled  by  his 
attention,  prattled  on  in  a  not  unattractive  way.  As 
they  came  back  and  neared  the  child's  mother  and  uncle, 
whom  from  something  in  their  manner  to  each  other 
Thorn  acquitted  of  any  blood-relationship,  he  heard  the 
woman  say  dolorously :  "  You  would  think  he  would 
be  satisfied  with  a  nice  wife  like  that,  and  all  the 
money,  wouldn't  yer;  and  besides,  it  isn't  as  if  he  cared 
for  me  any  more;  but  I  tell  you,  Wolf,  that  it  was 
awful  when  I  told  him — about  you — I  mean.  He 
won't  let  me,  and  you  will  just  have  to  give  it  up " 

She  looked  at  her  wrist-watch  and  held  out  her 
hand.  "  I  must  go  now ;  he  will  be  popping  in  this 
afternoon,  just  to  make  sure  you're  not  there."  Turn- 
ing, she  added  in  a  very  pleasant  voice  to  the  child: 
"  Come  along,  Theodore,  we  must  go.  Daddy's 
coming." 


234  YELLOWLEAF 

Thorn  knew  then  that  she  must  be  the  Mrs.  Cuth- 
bertson  of  whom  Bruno  had  told  him.  The  coinci- 
dence didn't  strike  him  as  very  strange,  for  everything 
seemed  improbable,  almost  unusual,  to  him  now-a- 
days;  but  when  the  woman  and  the  child  had  go.ne, 
after  her  nervously  enjoining  the  man  to  stay  where 
he  was  just  in  case  "  he  "  might  have  tracked  them 
there,  Thorn  approached  the  other  man,  who  stood 
despondently  gazing  down  at  the  collection  of  rattle- 
snakes, his  heavy,  kind,  common  face  full  of  worry. 

"  Excuse  me  for  speaking  to  you,"  Thorn  began, 
"  but  I  happen  to  know  who  that  lady  is,  and  I  am  a 
cousin  of  Mr.  Aghassy's  wife  -  " 

After  a  moment,  during  which  he  learned  that  his 
companion's  name  was  Piper,  and  that  Mr.  Piper  was 
now  more  convinced  than  ever  of  the  truth  of  the  say- 
ing about  fact  being  stranger  than  fiction,  the  two  men 
walked  away  together,  leaving  the  reptiles  to  their 
dreams  of  freedom,  and  went  slowly  towards  the 
entrance  gate. 

"  You  will  forgive  my  saying  that  I  know  from  my 
aunt,  Lady  Mary  Dampierre,  that  Mrs.  Cuthbertson 
will  be  glad  to  marry  you  if  Aghassy  would  let 


Mr.  Piper  groaned.  "  Oh,  not  at  all,"  he  mur- 
mured vaguely,  referring  to  Thorn's  apology.  "  That 
woman's  an  angel.  What  she's  put  up  with  from 
Aghassy  no  words  can  tell,  and  as  long  as  she  cared  for 
him,  or  even  while  he  seemed  fond  of  her,  /  never  said 
a  word  !  He's  a  great  man,  and  I'm  only  a  plain  city 
chap,  and  I  know  the  difference;  but  it's  years  now 


YELLOWLEAF  235 

since  he  openly  deserted  her — not  that  he  had  ever 
been  really  faithful — and  the  way  he's  treated  little 
Theo  is  perfectly  scandalous.  But  once  he  had  married 
he  ought  to  have  let  her  settle  down  with  me.  I'd  have 
taken  care  of  her,  and  she's  a  woman  that  needs  to  be 
taken  care  of." 

Charles  nodded.  "  They  all  need  it  in  one  way  or 
another,"  he  said,  feeling  very  friendly  towards  Mr. 
Wolf  Piper,  who  was  plainly  an  honourable,  decent 
man.  "  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  Aghassy  flatly 
refuses  to  let  her  marry  you  even  now?  " 

Mr.  Piper  looked  at  him  shrewdly.  "  Can  you 
imagine  him  flatly  refusing  anything?  Not  him!  He 
just  won't  let  her.  It's  his  will  and  his  manner  that 
does  it.  I  think  I  can  say  that  she  hates  him  now,  and 
yet,  damn  him,  he  can  always  get  round  her  when  he 
chooses." 

Thorn  shuddered.  This  was  probably  the  key  to 
one  of  the  many  puzzles  at  Yellowleaf :  Aghassy  knew 
how  to  get  round  Lily  with  his  manner  and  his  will- 
power. 

"  The  man  is  a  brute,"  he  declared  angrily. 

And  Mr.  Piper  agreed  with  him  in  a  way  that 
brought  these  two  Englishmen,  so  unlike  each  other  in 
almost  everything,  very  close  to  each  other  for  a 
moment. 

"  My  aunt's  butler,  the  charming  old  Italian  about 
whom  Mrs.  Cuthbertson  will  have  told  you,  told  me 
one  very  dreadful  thing  about  the  fellow,"  Thorn  began 
again  presently — "  the  way  he  makes  Mrs.  Cuthbert- 
son suffer  through — through — how  shall  I  put  it?  " 


236  YELLOWLEAF 

"  Through  destroying  her  self-respect,"  the  other 
man  finished  for  him.  "  Yes,  I've  seen  her  nearer 
suicide  than  I  ever  want  to  see  anyone  again,  from 
what  he's  said  to  her,  and  she  as  good  a  woman  as 
ever  lived,  except  just  for  being  what  she  has  been 
with  him." 

"  I'm  sure  of  it,"  agreed  Thorn  truthfully.  "  But 
she  must  know  this,  she  must  understand " 

Mr.  Piper  sighed,  his  red  face  losing  a  little  of  its 
colour.  "  You  see,  she  used  to  believe  him  to  be  an 
angel,  or  a  hero;  and  then  his  way  of  torturing  her 

was "  He  broke  off,  and  his  impotent  distress  was 

very  painful  to  see. 

"  Go  on,"  said  Thorn  gently.  They  were  alone  in 
the  middle  of  the  broad  gravel  path,  and  poor  Mrs. 
Cuthbertson's  suitor  stood  still. 

"  Why,  don't  you  see?  "  he  said,  "  the  fellow  let  her 
see  him  exactly  as  he  really  is,  and  it's  awful.  I  believe 
he  got  a  kind  of  pleasure  in  forcing  her  to  know  what 
a  bestial,  degraded  animal  she  had — loved.  And  he 
made  her  ashamed — by  God,  he  made  her  feel  unfit 
to  live!  Why,  do  you  know,  I've  seen  that  poor 
woman  crying  on  the  floor,  with  the  blinds  down, 
because  she  was  ashamed  to  see  the  sun " 

They  walked  on  in  silence  for  a  moment  and  then, 
suddenly  noticing  his  companion's  face  and  stopping 
again,  Mr.  Piper  took  out  his  handkerchief  and  wiped 
his  forehead  and  face,  and  neck. 

"  Oh,  you  feel  that  way,  too  ?  "  he  said.  "  You 
would  like  to  kill  him !  I've  been  pretty  near  trying  to 
do  him  in  once  or  twice.  He's  not  fit  to  live,  anvhow. 


YELLOWLEAF  237 

and  there  I've  been  having  to  look  on  for  years  at  his 
having  this  'orrible  effect  on  the  woman  I'd — I'd  gladly 
die  for  any  day."  He  paused,  and  Thorn  drew  a  deep 
breath  and  spoke  with  an  effort. 

"  It  must  be  hell."  He  held  out  his  hand.  "  I'll 
leave  you  now,  Mr.  Piper,"  he  said.  "  And  I  thank 
you  for  trusting  me.  I'm  going  to  try  and  help  you 
and  Mrs.  Cuthbertson.  It's  just  possible  that  I  may 
be  able  to " 

Mr.  Piper's  overcoat  was  the  wrong  shade  of 
brown,  and  he  wore  a  made-up  tie,  but  the  bond  of 
common  hate  is  very  strong,  and  Thorn  shook  hands 
with  him  warmly.  "  Here's  my  card,"  he  said,  "  and 
if  ever  I  can  do  anything,  you  may  be  sure  I  will,"  and 
he  walked  on  alone,  raging  with  horror  over  what  the 
man  had  told  him.  The  hideous  cynicism  of 
Aghassy's  treatment  of  the  mother  of  his  son  made 
him  feel  almost  physically  sick,  and  when  he  reached 
the  house,  he  did  what  was  to  him  a  most  unusual 
thing;  he  went  upstairs  and  took  a  stiff  brandy-and- 
soda  before  he  dared  face  Aghassy. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 


As  he  went  down  from  his  room  Charles  met  Lily, 
who  was  coming  upstairs,  her  arms  full  of  long- 
stemmed,  enormous  pink  roses.  There  must  have  been 
three  or  four  dozen  of  them,  and  across  their  buoyant 
foliage  looked  up  at  him  Lily's  face  white  with  excite- 
ment but  full  of  triumph  and  joy. 

"  Oh,  Charles,"  she  cried,  "  it's  all  right — about 
Jimmy,  I  mean.  Jacques  has  been  so  kind !  I — I  told 
you  he  was  kind,  really/'  she  added,  arrested  in  full 
flight  of  oratory  by  the  look  in  his  face,  "  and  he  is ! 
Mamma  and  he  have  had  a  talk,  and  he  agreed  to  do 
whatever  she  and  you  decided  was  best  for  Jinks.  He 
said  that  he  is  afraid  he  did  spoil  him — he  always  was 
fond  of  him,  you  know — and  that  it  was  only  fair  that 
you  should  have  a  try  now.  Oh,  Charles,  isn't  it 
splendid!" 

Thorn  was  silent  for  a  moment,  for  in  his  ears  were 
echoing  poor  Mr.  Piper's  words  about  Aghassy — "  He 
gets  round  her  by  his  will  and  his  manner " 

Aghassy  was  getting  round  him,  now.  Lady  Mary, 
and  Lily,  and  he,  Charles  Thorn,  were  being  managed 
by  this  clever  scoundrel;  and  by  this  unexpected  sub- 
mission he  had  beaten  them. 

"  Aren't  you  glad? "  Lily  faltered,  and  suddenly 
her  eyes  rilled  with  tears,  to  his  horror  and  fright,  and 
he  bent  over  the  roses,  which  he  hated  because  he  knew 
238 


YELLOWLEAF  239 

where  they  had  come  from,  and  made  a  feint  of  smell- 
ing them.  Her  little  face  was  so  dear,  so  dear  to  him, 
and  her  illusory  happiness  so  pathetic,  that  he  felt  real, 
physical  pain  in  his  heart. 

He  feared  that  she  might  force  him  to  speak,  but 
she  did  not ;  there  was  a  long  silence  there  on  the  shal- 
low oak  stairs,  the  melancholy  autumn  sun  looking  in 
through  the  big  window,  the  old  clock  ticking  loud. 

When  he  looked  up,  Thorn's  odd  sense  of  fear  grew 
stronger,  for  in  Lily's  dark  blue  eyes  he  saw  a  new, 
perilous  understanding. 

"  Charles,"  she  said  gravely,  "  you  don't  believe  in 
it;  you  don't  trust  him,  and — it's  my  fault.  I  have 
been  afraid  of  him,  sometimes,  and  you  know  it,  and  it 
has  made  you  afraid — for  me.  Isn't  that  true?  " 

He  could  not  admit  it,  and  he  could  not  lie  to  her, 
but  all  the  misery  in  his  heart  looked  out  at  her  from 
his  eyes,  and  she  went  on :  "  You  make  me  ashamed. 
I  have  been  a — a  coward.  It's  because  he  is  so  strong, 
Charles.  He's  different  from  everybody  in  the  whole 
world.  He's  never  nervous,  never — fanciful,  like  us — 
he's  never  afraid  of  himself.  And  he  is  fierce,  and 
that,"  she  added,  "  used  to  frighten  me." 

The  scent  of  her  great  armful  of  roses  mounted 
like  that  of  burning  incense  as  they  stood  there.  Thorn 
thought  vaguely  of  those  pent-up  reptiles  at  the  Zoo; 
of  the  honest  lion  who  had  wanted  to  devour  him;  of 
the  flat-headed  lynx 

Her  soft  voice  went  on  for  a  moment  without  carry- 
ing any  meaning  to  his  ears.  The  only  clear  idea  he 
had  now  was  that  Aghassy,  in  his  immense  power,  was 


24o  YELLOWLEAF 

a  thing  so  evil  that  he  should  be  put  to  death.  He  had 
shamed  and  driven  to  despair  that  poor  woman  who 
had  borne  him  a  son;  and  if  he  went  on  living,  what 
to  prevent  his  opening  his  black  soul  to  this  poor  child 
whom  he,  Charles  Thorn,  loved,  and  killing  her  with 
horror? 

Then  suddenly  Charles  Thorn  sat  down  on  the 
stairs  and  buried  his  self-betraying  face  in  his  hands, 
for  the  thought  had  come  to  him  that  if  Lily  and 
Aghassy  should  have  a  child — a  son — he  might  grow 
up  like  his  father.  Lily's  son  and  that  monster's! 
Thorn  felt  that  rather  than  allow  such  a  thing  to  hap- 
pen he  could  kill  Aghassy 

A  rain  of  strong-stemmed,  strong-scented  roses 
roused  him,  for  in  her  fright  Lily  had  let  them  fall, 
and  a  sharp  thorn  caught  Charles's  cheek  and  clung 
to  it  for  a  second,  drawing  blood  before  it  slithered 
to  his  knees. 

"  Charles,  dear  Charles "  He  heard  her  dear 

voice,  he  felt  her  dear  hands  tugging  at  his,  he  could 
hear  her  breathing. 

"  You  don't  believe  it,"  she  cried,  "  and  it's  my 
fault." 

That  seemed  to  be  her  chief  trouble:  that  it  was 
owing  to  her  weakness  that  night  in  the  garden,  when 
Aghassy's  telegram  had  come,  that  he  doubted 
Aghassy's  good  faith  now. 

Thorn  dropped  his  hands  from  his  ravaged  face. 
"  My  dear,"  he  answered  gently,  "  you — you've  mis- 
understood me.  I've  felt  seedy  all  day,  and — that's 
all." 


YELLOWLEAF  241 

He  rose,  and  stood  looking  down  at  her  as  she 
stood  among  the  fallen  roses.  "  I'm  very  glad — of 
course — about  Aghassy.  It  was — very  decent  of  him. 
Now  " — for  he  had  come  to  the  end  of  his  strength — 
"  I  must  go  down  to  Aunt  Mary." 

Hitherto  she  had  always  believed  every  word  he 
said;  now  he  knew  that  she  did  not  believe  him,  and 
knew  that  she  was  right  in  not  believing  him.  As  he 
went  on  downstairs  he  cursed  Aghassy  in  a  new  way. 
To  his  other  horrors  Aghassy  had  added  this  one ;  he 
was  forcing  him,  Charles  Thorn,  to  lie. 

ii 

Late  that  evening  Thorn  and  Lady  Mary  had  a 
second  talk.  Their  first,  following  immediately  on 
Thorn's  meeting  with  Lily  on  the  stairs,  had  been  un- 
satisfactory because  Thorn,  under  the  influence  of  his 
interview  with  Piper  and  his  talk  with  Lily,  was  afraid 
to  give  rein  to  his  thoughts,  and  had  remained,  to  the 
old  lady's  annoyance,  almost  silent  in  the  face  of  her 
eloquence. 

Her  leading  motif  was  her  absolute  distrust  in 
Aghassy's  good  intentions.  "  He  has  something  up  his 
sleeve,"  she  said,  over  and  over  and  over  again — 
"  something  up  his  sleeve  that  will  beat  us  yet." 

But  when  Aghassy,  as  Thorn  knew  through  Bruno, 
had  gone  out,  and  eleven  o'clock  had  struck,  Thorn 
and  Lady  Mary  had  their  second  consultation,  and 
the  air  cleared  a  little. 

"If  he's  said  it  he  can't  go  back  from  it,"  Thorn 
declared,  firmness  coming  to  him,  as  it  often  does,  with 
16 


242  YELLOWLEAF 

the  uttering  of  bold  words.  "  Hesketh  is  coming  early 
to-morrow — I've  'phoned  him — and  he  will  clinch 
things.  We'll  have  the  boy  out  of  the  house  in  a  week's 
time,  and  then " 

"  And  then,  and  then,  and  then,"  snapped  the  old 
woman  fiercely.  "Oh,  you — you  unbounded  idiot!" 

The  ferocity  worn  out  of  him  by  its  own  strength 
during  the  day,  Thorn  laughed  mournfully.  "  Am  I 
an  unbounded  idiot,  Aunt  Mary?  No  doubt.  I'm 
tired  out  to-night.  I — I'm  just  a  man  " — and  he  told 
his  odd  adventure  in  the  snake-house. 

"  Isn't  it  horrible  ?  "  he  finished  by  saying. 

Her  face  was  white  and  fixed;  he  knew  that  she 
shared  fully  his  repulsion  and  anger. 

"  Aunt  Mary,"  he  said  slowly,  "  there  are  moments 
when — when  I  feel  that  it  wouldn't  be  wrong  if — if  I 
killed  the  fellow.  Suppose  he  did  that  to  Lily  ?  Told 
her — let  her  see — what  he  really  is — what  kind  of  man 
she  has — has,  well,  believed  in !  It  would  kill  her.  It 
would  be  like — like  lifting  the  lid  off  Hell  and  making 
her  look  in.  Her! " 

He  rose  and  prowled  about  restlessly.  "  He — he 
ought  to  be  dead,"  he  ended,  with  abruptness,  after  a 
pause. 

Lady  Mary  sat  up  suddenly.  "  Charles,"  she  burst 
out,  "  don't  you  be  more  of  a  fool  than  is  necessary ! 
I'll  not  have  you  killing  people,  if  you  don't  mind." 

He  turned  and  looked  at  her,  heavy-eyed  and 
haggard. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Aunt  Mary — I'm  an  idiot, 
and — well,  I'm  an  idiot,  that's  all.  Of  course  I  don't 


YELLOWLEAF  243 

mean  to  commit  murder,  but "  he  paused,  and  then 

went  on  impressively :  "  God  help  me,  I  do  wish  he  was 
dead." 

Lady  Mary  eyed  him  for  a  moment,  and  then  said, 
her  words  coming  slowly :  "  The  world  would  be  much 

better  without  him,  and  I,  too,  wish "  She  broke 

off,  adding  after  a  pause,  with  a  laugh :  "  we  are  both 
of  us  thoroughly  hysterical,  my  dear  boy.  Doesn't  it 
just  show  what  a  mag  erf  ul  creature  Jacques  is,  to  turn 
you  and  me  into  two  such  idiots !  " 

After  a  few  minutes  they  parted,  Charles  having 
promised  to  set  to  work  in  the  morning  to  find  a  good 
crammer  for  Jimmy. 

"  Mind  you,"  Lady  Mary  added,  as  he  kissed  her 
good-night,  "  ostensibly  we've  got  him  safe  enough. 
He  has  promised  to  do  whatever  you  and  I  decide,  and 
you  and  I  have  decided  to  get  Jimmy  out  of  this  at 
once,  so  he  can't  oppose  us  in  any  open  way.  We 
could  beat  him  any  day  in  the  open ;  its  what  he  will  do 
in  the  dark,  secretly,  that  I'm  in  dread  of " 

Again  cursing  Aghassy's  black  power,  by  which  he 
had  forced  him,  Charles  Thorn,  to  lie  to  the  woman  he 
loved,  Charles  assumed  a  confidence  he  did  not  feel, 
and  bullied  his  facial  muscles  into  the  travesty  of  a 
smile.  "  Don't  you  worry,  dear,"  he  answered  gently, 
"  he  can't  go  back  on  his  word,  and  it  is  all  going  to 
be  all  right " 

Her  sunken  dark  eyes  rested  heavily  on  his  for  a 
moment.  "  Good-night,  Charles.  Anyhow,  whatever 
he  may  try  to  do,  we  will  fight,  won't  we  ?  " 

And  Thorn  answered,  more  grimly  than  he  knew : 
"We  will!1' 


244  YELLOWLEAF 

m 

"  No,"  the  young  James  Geoffrey  Dampierre  de- 
clared gently,  but  with  a  new,  derivative  firmness,  "  I 
will  not  go  to  school,  and  I  will  not  go  to  a  crammer's." 

His  mother  implored,  and  wept,  and  remonstrated ; 
his  cousin  Charles  lost  his  famous  temper  and  stormed 
at  him,  using  unjustifiable  and  powerless  language; 
his  grandmother  presented  to  his  youthful  mind  cogent 
and  unwounding  reasons  for  a  change  of  air  and  sur- 
roundings. "  Major  Meege  is  a  delightful  man,"  she 
told  him,  "  an  old  Indian  Cavalry  man,  not  a  bit  like 
the  usual — er — tutor.  Besides,  he  is  a  good  rider,  and 
I  was  intending  to  give  you  a  couple  of  good — really 
good — hunters,  so  that  you'd  have  a  fine  winter " 

"  I'm  not  going,  Grandmamma."  Jimmy's  chin 
was  still  rather  vague  in  outline,  his  pale  lips  a  little 
lax,  but  his  voice,  as  he  sat  there  in  the  sunshine  by  his 
grandmother's  bed,  was  full  of  firmness.  "  Very  kind 
of  you,  but — I  prefer  Yellowleaf." 

"  Sir  Arthur  thinks " 

"  Sir  Arthur  may  go  to  the  deuce,"  Jimmy  declared 
calmly.  "  Charles  has  been  after  him,  and  I  don't 
choose  to  be  bossed  by  Charles." 

By  a  great  effort  the  old  lady  was  silent  for  a 
moment.  Then  she  said,  smiling — full,  God  help  her, 
she  felt,  with  slyness  and  iniquity :  "  Poor  Charles  does 
not  want  you  to  be  away,  Jinks !  Charles  loves  you, 
and  his  one  idea  was  to  coach  you,  and  study  with 
you " 

Jimmy  laughed,  his  mouth  curling  up  in  an  ugly 
way.  "  Old  Gian  de  Medici  knows  how  to  manage  you 
all  right,  Gran!" 


YELLOWLEAF  245 

A  sound  spanking  was  the  treatment  Lady  Mary 
would  have  liked  to  offer  him  at  that  moment;  her 
delicate  fingers  tingled  with  the  lust  of  chastisement. 
But  she  had  made  up  her  mind  to  meet  cunning  with 
cunning.  "  My  good  child,"  she  remarked,  her  old 
eyes  gleaming,  "  even  Jacques  thinks  it  would  be  good 
for  you  to  go,  if  only  for  three  or  four  months,  to 
Major  Meege ! " 

Jim,  at  his  most  unpleasant  that  afternoon, 
shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  You  don't  know  Jacques — 
that's  the  whole  point,  Grandmamma.  It  nearly  kills 
him  to  be  tiresome  and — and — authorit — authoritative. 
His  one  idea  is  that  everybody  ought  to  be  let  alone — 
to  be  happy.  Poor  old  Jacques.  I  know !  He's  pretend- 
ing to  want  me  to  go  to  this  Megee  person,  because  you 
want  me  to !  " 

"  Oh,  is  he!  "  For  the  life  of  her,  the  old  woman 
could  not  keep  the  dryness  out  of  her  voice,  and  as  it 
reached  his  ears  the  boy  looked  at  her.  "  Yes,  he  is. 
Jacques  is  the  kindest,  dearest  fellow  in  the  world ;  he 
can't  bear  to  see  anyone  unhappy.  Oh,"  he  rose  im- 
patiently and  stood  by  the  fire,  "  it's  all  that  old  duffer 
Charles's  fault,  and  Mother's!  They  would  like  me 
to  be  a  baby  all  my  life,  and  because  I'm  not,  because 
I've  had  the  luck  to  see  a  bit  of  life  with  the  finest  chap 
that  ever  stepped,  the — Charles,  at  least — is  jealous. 
That's  the  whole  thing !  " 

Lady  Mary  eyed  him  angrily,  her  hot  temper  rising. 
"  Oh,  indeed !  And  when,  may  I  ask,  did  the  kindest, 
dearest  fellow  in  the  world  fill  you  up  with  all  this 
wisdom?" 


246  YELLOWLEAF 

A  brief,  heated  argument  followed,  at  the  end  of 
which  Jimmy  begged  his  grandmother's  pardon,  all 
his  real,  childish  love  for  her  bubbling  up  in  him  at  the 
sight  of  her  lying  exhausted,  righting  for  breath,  on 
her  pillows. 

"  I'm  awful  sorry,  Gran,"  he  cried,  his  acquired 
mannerisms  vanishing  like  bubbles  pricked.  "  Every- 
thing'd  be  all  right  if  it  wasn't  for  that  ass  Charles!  " 

Lady  Mary,  panting,  more  extenuate  than  was 
strictly  necessary,  shook  her  head  sadly.  "  Oh, 
Charles,"  she  murmured ;  "  my  dear  Jinks,  it  isn't 
Charles  who  matters !  It's  me — I — who  feel  that  you 
need  a  change!  So  does  Jim,  mother;  and  so  does 
Arthur  Hesketh,  who  brought  you  into  the  world 

But  her  specious  phrasing  failed !  Jimmy  was  sin- 
cerely anxious  about  her  health,  and  he  loved  his 
mother,  but  to  school  or  a  tutor  he  would  not  go.  "  Of 
course,  Charles  thinks  it's  Jacques's  fault,"  the  boy 
declared  with  ferocity,  "  but  it  isn't.  Jacques  says  he 
thinks  I  ought  to  go,  and  that  Charles  will  stop  upset- 
ting Mother  about  me.  Jacques  says  I've  been  a  silly 
young  ass,  and  I  have,  of  course,  but  it's  not  his  fault!  " 

Lady  Mary  remarked  softly,  at  this  point,  that 
Aghassy  did  not  like  Charles  Thorn,  and  therefore 
misunderstood  him.  Jimmy  laughed,  with  a  tolerance 
that  struck  his  hearer  as  both  foolish  and  offensive. 
"  There  you  are !  I  tell  you  dear  old  Jacques  doesn't 
dislike  Charles !  He  sees,  of  course,  what  a  dull,  insular 
fellow  he  is,  but  he — he  thoroughly  respects  him. 
Thoroughly!" 

He  was  so  plainly  echoing  Aghassy's  words  that 


YELLOWLEAF  247 

Lady  Mary  could  have  groaned  aloud  in  her  helpless 
admiration  for  Aghassy's  cleverness;  but  she,  too,  was 
clever,  so  she  made  no  sign.  After  a  while  she  re- 
marked drily :  "  Well,  Jinks,  you  are  a  minor,  you 
know,  and  we  could  force  you  to  do  what  we  think 
best ;  but — I  for  one  should  not  try  to  force  you.  Stay 
on  here  if  you  like!  " 

The  boy  was  too  young,  for  all  his  unconsciously 
received  coaching,  to  hide  his  surprise  at  this  sudden 
descent. 

"  Why,  Gran !  "  he  began  eagerly. 

But  the  old  lady  burrowed  into  her  pillows  and  shut 
her  eyes.  "  Please  go  away  now,"  she  said  faintly ; 
"  I — I'm  tired.  I — I  suppose  you're  too  wise  and  inde- 
pendent to  take  cod-liver  oil  to  please  me — not  Charles, 
but  me?  " 

The  boy  was  touched.  "  Oh,  Gran,  what  a  beast 
you  must  think  me!  Of  course  I  will.  And — you'll 
see — I  shall  be  all  right,"  he  added  earnestly.  "  I'm 
going  to  work  at  my  painting.  Jacques  says  I  have 

real  talent Oh,  Grandmamma,  please  don't  look 

like  that !  "  He  bent  and  kissed  her  gently,  and  feel- 
ing an  old  reprobate  of  the  deepest  dye,  she  pretended 
to  be  too  feeble  to  open  her  eyes. 

"  Gran,"  he  added  eagerly,  "  please  don't  worry ! 
I — I'll  go  out  now,  and  get  a  bottle  of  cod-liver  oil." 


CHAPTER  XIX 


WHEN  Christmas  holiday-time  came,  the  question 
of  Jim's  immediate  future  was  tacitly  dropped,  for 
there  was,  everyone  felt,  no  good  in  crossing  the  river 
— and  a  stormy,  torrential  river  it  promised  to  be — 
before  actually  reaching  it.  Lady  Mary,  once  more 
established  in  her  Corner,  was  much  better,  and  Thorn 
spent  most  of  his  days  in  reading  to  her,  for  she  was 
yet  too  weak  to  work  at  her  embroidery,  and  reading 
tired  her  eyes. 

So  Jimmy's  period  of  rebellion  was  ever  afterward 
remembered  by  him  with  a  background  of  horrible, 
depressing  Greek  drama.  "  Murderous  lot  they  are," 
he  observed  one  afternoon  when  on  a  quest  for  tea. 
"  A  good  thing  people  don't  go  in  for  that  kind  of 
thing  nowadays,  or  I  might  up  and  slay  you,  Grand- 
mamma, or  Charles,  for  wanting  me  to  go  to  school; 
or  Charles  might  run  a  knife  into  Jacques  for  not  want- 
ing me  to !  "  Charles  started,  his  face  changing  oddly. 
Christmas  was  over,  and  the  period  of  the  truce  nearly 
at  an  end.  "  Or  Jacques  might  treat  you  to  a  poisoned 
beaker,  smother  your  mother,  and  enjoy  your  fortune 
at  his  leisure,"  Lady  Mary  added,  smiling  in  a  grim 
way.  "  Your  sudden  removal,  my  dear  Jinks,  would 
be  more  beneficial  to  Jacques  than  his  to  any  of  us,  or 
Charles's  would  to  you " 

Jim  laughed,  too.  He  looked  ill  and  nervous,  and 
248 


YELLOWLEAF  249 

his  grandmother  knew  that  he  had  gone  to  a  play  and 
a  studio  party  the  night  before,  with  some  people  he 
had  met  on  the  P.  and  O.  on  the  way  from  Australia, 
"  Oh,  well,  /  couldn't  read  those  gloomy  old  plays,  any- 
how— all  that  rot  about  it's  being  right  for  Orestes  to 
kill  what's-his-name — his  stepfather — and  his  mother! 
They  were  such  bores,  all  of  'em,  that  they  deserved  to 
be  killed;  but  murder's  murder,  ain't  it,  Charles?" 

Of  late  he  had  shown  a  disposition  to  please  Thorn, 
less,  however,  as  if  he  regretted  his  anger  against  him, 
than  as  if  he  wished  to  win  a  powerful,  but  not  par- 
ticularly implacable,  adversary  over  to  his  side.  Thorn 
felt  sure  that  Aghassy  had  advised  this  attitude,  and 
he  naturally  revolted,  and  refused  to  respond  to  it. 

"  Of  course  murder's  murder,"  Charles  answered 
now,  his  grim  face  not  relaxing,  "  but  some  murders 
are  certainly  more  justifiable  than  others " 

As  he  spoke  Aghassy  came  in  with  some  books  he 
had  brought  for  the  old  lady,  and  joined  in  the  talk. 
"  Who's  going  to  murder  whom  ?  "  he  asked,  smiling 
and  sitting  down.  "  I've  got  the  Gogol  book,  Lady 
Mary,  and  the  poems,  and  they  are  going  to  send  to  the 
publisher  for  the  others " 

"  Thanks,  Jacques.  Jinks  is  cursing  the  Greek 
dramatists,  and  Charles  is  defending  murder  as  a  means 
of  justice " 

Aghassy  glanced  at  Thorn  and  then  at  the  old  lady. 
"  Some  murders  have  always  seemed  to  me  less  horrible 
than  certain  other  crimes " 

"  Yes."  Thorn's  deep  voice  held  a  note  that  drew 
their  attention,  and  no  one  spoke  till  he  went  on.  "  The 


2so  YELLOWLEAF 

worst  crimes  of  all,"  he  said  slowly,  "  have  no  names — 
they  are  things  that  hurt  souls,  and  men  who  commit 
them  deserve  death  far  more  than  some  poor  devil  who 
is  injured,  or  jealous,  or  dishonoured,  and  loses  his 
head  and  runs  a  knife  into  his  enemy " 

"  I  hope,"  Aghassy  exclaimed  with  a  pleasant 
laugh,  "  that  you  don't  mean  me,  for  having  let  Jim 
outgrow  his  strength  and  smoke  too  many  cigarettes !  " 

At  the  back  of  his  strong  anger  at  this  stab,  Thorn 
was  conscious  of  a  feeling  of  admiration  for  his  adver- 
sary's amazing  powers  of  dissimulation.  No  one,  not 
the  shrewdest  observer  alive,  could  have  seen  by  his 
manner  that  a  declared  hatred  of  Thorn  was  behind 
his  assumption  of  desultory  teasing.  He  was  carrying 
out  the  truce  magnificently,  and  Thorn  chafed  at  the 
consciousness  of  his  inferiority  at  pretence;  he  knew 
that  his  hatred  gleamed  in  his  eyes  and  was  cutting 
lines  in  his  face,  and  he  knew  that  Aghassy  despised 
him  for  his  lack  of  self-control. 

It  was  Jimmy  who  answered  his  stepfather's  jest- 
ing remark.  "  Oh  no,  Jacques;  we  were  talking  about 
that  chap  in  yEschylus  who  murdered  his  mother  be- 
cause she  married  again  and  he  didn't  like  her 
husband " 

"  Worse  and  worse,  Jinko !  Just  supposing  that 
you  didn't  like  me!  If  you  had  Thorn's — principles — 
my  life  wouldn't  be  worth  a  rotten  fig !  " 

"  Rubbish,  Jacques !  "  Lady  Mary  cried.  "  Lily 
didn't  murder  her  first  husband  to  marry  you,  and 
she  is  altogether  unlike  Clytemnestra,  so  the  compari- 
son doesn't  hold  water.  Go  and  play  that  Debussy 


YELLOWLEAF  251 

thing  about  rain  to  me.     I'm  an  aged  and  afflicted 
woman  and  need  pampering!  " 

Aghassy  obeyed  her  with  his  usual  grace,  and  for  a 
long  time  the  pattering  of  the  musical  rain  filled  the 
room,  and  no  one  spoke.  It  was,  finally,  Lily  who 
broke  the  silence  by  coming  in  with  an  open  letter  in 
her  hand.  "  Here's  a  letter  from  Brandon  Roper,"  she 
said  to  Jimmy.  "  He's  going  for  the  winter  and  spring 
to  a  place  near  Bordeaux  with  two  boys — young  men, 
I  mean — to  prepare  them  for  the  Oxford  exams.  They 
are  both  behind  in  their  studies,  one,"  she  glanced  at 
the  letter,  "  because  he  has  been  living  in  Ceylon,  and 
only  just  come  into  the  fortune  that  brings  him  home ; 
and  the  other  is  a  Spaniard,  the  duque — I  suppose 
that's  a  duke — di  Alvarique." 

Jim  laughed.  "  Hope  he'll  enjoy  Bordeaux,"  he 
answered.  "  /  shan't,  because  I'm  not  going  there " 

She  looked  distressed.  "  Darling  Jinksy,  don't  be 
a  pig,"  she  pleaded :  "  you  heard  Arthur  Hesketh  yes- 
terday, what  he  said  about  your  cough — and  you  know 
what  a  dear  Mr.  Roper  is!  You  could  ride,  and 

walk .    You'd  have  a  plorious  time,  and — and  you 

know  how  pleased  Jacques  would  be !  " 

The  music  was  still  going  on;  Aghassy  was  now 
playing  Bach  with  a  dignity  ?nd  solemnity  that  in 
him  always  surprised  Thorn.  How  could  such  a 
creature  play  with  such  reverence  and  splendour,  he 
thought !  As  Lily  stopped  speaking  Thorn  knew  that 
Aghassy  was  listening,  and  with  a  strong  purpose  he 
answered  her.  "  Yes,  Lily,"  he  said ;  "  Aghassy  was 
saying  again  last  night  that  he  would  really  like  Jim 


252  YELLOWLEAF 

to  go  to  the  South — he  said  he  had  quite  changed  his 
mind  about  it " 

The  music  stopped  with  a  quiet  chord,  and  the 
musician  joined  the  group  round  the  fire.  "  Let  me 
see  the  letter,  dearest,"  he  said  to  his  wife,  and  no  one 
spoke  while  he  read  it.  When  he  had  folded  it  and 
given  it  back  to  her  he  turned  to  his  stepson.  "  Look 
here,  young  Jim,"  he  began  seriously,  "  it's  quite  true, 
I  do  think  you  had  better  do  as  your  mother  and  grand- 
mother wish.  That  is  a  very  nice,  understanding 
letter,  and  Roper  won't  expect  you  to  be  a  school-boy 
again;  he  knows  you  have  travelled  and  know  more 
than  most  boys  of  your  age,  and  it  would  be  more  a 
question  of  your  being  in  a  decent  climate  than  anything 
else,  and  you  would — or,  hang  it  all,  you  ought  to — 
like  those  two  fellows.  I  really  think  you'd  better  go." 

Jimmy  stared  at  him  in  almost  open-mouthed  sur- 
prise. "  Why,  Jacques,"  he  exclaimed,  plainly  sincere, 
"  you  don't  really  want  me  to  go,  do  you  ?  " 

"  I  do,  my  boy."  Aghassy's  voice  was  the  voice  of 
a  good,  kind,  wise  father,  and  Lady  Mary  and  Charles 
Thorn  exchanged  a  quiet  glance  of  resentful  admira- 
tion, and  the  old  lady  clapped  her  hands  softly  to  express 
her  sense  of  the  scene's  theatricality.  "  Bravo,  le  pere 
noble,"  she  murmured. 

Aghassy,  like  most  insincere  people,  could  stand 
anything  better  than  being  found  out,  and  for  a  mo- 
ment his  astonishing  composure  tottered,  and  an  irre- 
pressible glare  came  into  his  green  eyes;  but  he  was 
too  clever  to  notice  the  old  lady's  manner,  and  went 
on  in  much  the  same  tone :  "  At  first,  frankly,  I  did  not 


YELLOWLEAF  253 

want  you  to  go;  but  your  grandmother  and  mother 
and — Charles  "  (he  knew  Thorn  hated  him  to  call  him 
Charles)  "  have  changed  my  mind.  I  now  agree  with 
them." 

Jim  scowled  in  a  puzzled  way.  "  I  never  knew  you 
wobble  before,"  he  grumbled ;  "  thought  you  knew  your 
own  mind " 

Aghassy  laughed  good-humouredly.  "  I  do,  and 
when  my  mind  changes  I  admit  it,  as  a  wise  old  fellow 
of  my  age  ought  to  do.  Well " — he  laid  a  hand  on 
Jim's  shoulder  and  smiled  over  the  lad's  head  at  his 
wife — "  let's  own  up  at  once  that  the  others  were  right, 
and  you  and  I  wrong,  and  let  your  mother  write  and 
make  arrangements  for  you  to  go  next  week  with 
Mr.  Roper " 

"  All  right,"  the  boy  agreed,  slowly  and  unwillingly. 
Then  he  added  with  a  sudden  change  of  manner :  "  I 
say,  Jacques,  suppose  I  just  wouldn't  go,  could  you 
make  me?  I'm  nineteen  and  three  months,  you 
know " 

"  You're  a  minor,  and  we  are  your  guardians," 
Aghassy  returned.  "  No  doubt  Thorn  and  I  could 
force  you  legally;  but  I  confess  freely  that  if  you  were 
really  dead  against  it — which,  you  know,  you're  not — 
I  should  not  feel  justified  in  bullying  you  into  it." 

"  I  should,"  put  in  Thorn  grimly,  and  Aghassy 
nodded  with  satisfaction.  "  No  doubt  you  would,  my 
dear  fellow!  You're  the  bull-dog  type  of  strong, 
authoritative  Briton,  and  I " 

"  You  are  not  a  type  of  Briton.  That  is  true!  " 
Thorn's  loathing  of  the  man  had  forced  him  into  the 


254  YELLOWLEAF 

indiscretion,  and  he  could  have  bitten  his  tongue  out 
for  saying  it.  Aghassy,  however,  only  laughed.  "  No 
— I  am  only  a  poor,  emotional,  fluctuating  music-man ! 
Ah  well,  Thorn,  all's  well  that  ends  well,  and  I've  given 
in !  You  will  admit,"  he  added,  holding  out  his  broad, 
muscular  hand  palm  upward,  "  that  I'm  at  least  a  good 
loser!" 

Thorn  reluctantly  shook  hands  with  him,  and  he 
turned  to  Lady  Mary.  "  Are  you  pleased  with  me, 
Lady  Mary?  "  he  asked,  looking  as  if  he  were  on  the 
point  of  bowing  to  her. 

"  I  shall  be  very  glad  indeed,"  the  old  woman 
answered  brightly,  smiling  up  into  his  face,  "  when  Jim 
is  in  France  with  Brandon  Roper.  Roper  is  an  excel- 
lent coach,  and  a  gentleman,  and  he  has  also  a  fine 
sense  of  humour,  so  he  will  make  Jinks  very  happy, 
which  is  what  we  all  want " 

Aghassy  watched  her  closely  as  she  paused ;  it  was 
plain  that  he  was  expecting  her  to  say  something  more, 
but  she  did  not,  and  after  a  moment  he  and  his  wife 
and  Jimmy  left  the  room  together.  "  You  might  as 
well  write  to  Roper  at  once,"  Aghassy  remarked,  as 
they  reached  the  door,  and  Lily  murmured  a  delighted 
"  Yes." 

"  Well?  "  Lady  Mary's  voice  was  full  of  meaning, 
and  Thorn  started  at  it. 

"  Well  ?  "  he  repeated  vaguely,  looking  up. 

The  old  woman  leaned  forward  in  her  chair. 
"  What  do  you  make  of  that,  now  ?  "  she  asked ;  add- 
ing, without  waiting  for  an  answer :  "  Oh,  Charles, 
Charles,  get  me  my  frame !  I  must  think " 


YELLOWLEAF  255 

ii 

Three  days  later  Bruno  came  into  Lady  Mary's 
room  while  she  was  eating  her  lunch  in  bed,  after  a 
bad  night  and  a  visit  from  the  doctor,  and  standing 
at  the  foot  of  the  bed  said  respectfully  in  Italian: 
"  There's  a  young  female  come,  Eccellenza " 

Lady  Mary,  who  loathed  a  lightly  boiled  egg  and 
was  eating  one  by  the  doctor's  orders,  laid  down  her 
spoon  and  looked  up  from  the  unseemly  little  mess  in 
the  decapitated  shell  in  the  egg-cup. 

"  A  young  female  ?  "  she  repeated.  "  What  on 
earth  do  you  mean,  Bruno?  " 

The  old  man,  who  looked  very  small  and  ancient 
in  the  bright  winter  light,  rubbed  his  hands  together. 
"  Sissignora,  a  young  lady  who  is  to  be  the  Signer 
Aghassy's  secretary." 

"  The  Signor  Aghassy's  secretary  ?  You're  mad, 
my  poor  old  little  old  one.  What  should  he  do  with 
a  secretary  ?  " 

"  She  is  to  write  his  letters  and  help  him  with  his 
Symphony,  Eccellenza." 

"Oh!  His  Symphony!  I  didn't  know  he  was 
writing  a  Symphony !  " 

"  No,  Your  Excellency,  neither  did  I,  and  with 
respect  speaking  I  don't  think  he  is,  yet " 

"  Bruno,  take  this  nasty  egg  away — throw  it  out  of 
the  window,  and  get  me  some  cold  ham — I  cannot  and 
will  not  eat  raw  eggs.  And  now  you'll  oblige  me  by 
telling  me  plainly,  in  straight  words,  exactly  what  you 
mean  about  this  young  female." 

Bruno  disposed  of  the  offending  egg  by  pouring  its 


256  YELLOWLEAF 

contents  into  the  grass  under  the  window,  and  restored 
the  empty  shell  for  purposes  of  deception  to  the  cup, 
before  he  answered.  Then  he  used  words  in  his  own 
tongue  which  for  plainness  and  downrightness  could 
not  be  beaten.  "  I  think,  Your  Excellency,"  he  de- 
clared calmly,  "that  she  is  not  a  secretary;  I  think 
with  respect  speaking,  that  she  is  a  harlot." 

Lady  Mary  sUrc-.I,  then  she  burst  into  a  peal  of 
reprehensible  but  dcl^hled  tev.^hter.  "  Thank  you, 
Bruno,"  she  cried;  "you  couldn't  improve  on  that! 
But  perhaps  the  lady  is  boih — the  one  might  easily 
include  the  other.  However,  tell  me  why  you  suspect 
her  morals?  " 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  deferentially.  "  Who 
knows  why?  A  woman  either  is  honest  or  she  isn't, 
and  there  are  signs " 

Lady  Mary  nodded.  "  No  doubt.  But,  Bruno,  you 

must  be  wrong.  Even  he  wouldn't  do  that " 

"  He  "  always  meant  Aghassy  between  these  two  old 
friends,  and  there  were  no  pretenses  about  him  between 
them  nowadays, 

Bruno  shrugged  his  shoulders  again.  "  Eccellenza, 
the  young  woman  is  most  certainly  one — I  thought  I 
had  better  tell  you." 

After  a  moment  he  left  the  room  bearing  the  tray, 
and  Lady  Mary  lay  back  in  her  pillows,  trying  to  get 
a  light  on  the  picture  so  unexpectedly  presented  to  her. 

in 

Miss  Pearl  Mareschal,  however,  proved  to  be  not 
only  a  private  secretary,  but  a  highly  certified  and 


YELLOWLEAF  257 

recommended  one.  Besides  being,  her  papers  proved, 
a  wonder  of  rapidity  and  accuracy  at  shorthand  and 
typing,  she  was  a  trained  musician,  learned  in  all  the 
mysteries  of  thorough-bass  and  harmony,  and  fully 
qualified  to  help  Aghassy  in  his  projected  Symphony. 

It  was  Aghassy  himself  who  explained  the  young 
lady  to  the  old  one,  and  he  did  it  very  well.  There 
was  no  doubt  at  all  that  he  had  long  been  tinkering 
at  his  great  work,  for  in  a  casual  way  he  produced  a 
huge  sheaf  of  roughly  written  musical  notes,  which 
Jimmy,  who  happened  to  be  in  the  room  at  the  time, 
instantly  remembered.  "  Ah,  that's  the  largo  you  did 
that  day  in  the  harbour  at  Nagasaki,  while  we  were 
coaling,"  the  boy  cried.  "  Oh,  Jacques,  I  am  glad 
you're  really  going  to  get  to  work  on  it  at  last !  " 

Lady  Mary  had  great  faith  in  Bruno's  shrewdness, 
but  when  little  Miss  Mareschal  was  brought  in  to  be 
introduced  to  her,  she  began  to  doubt  it,  for  the  girl 
was  quiet-looking,  and  quietly  dressed,  and  though  her 
very  white  face  was  diversified  by  vividly  rouged  lips, 
the  lips  were  no  redder  than  those  of  many  women 
of  Lady  Mary's  own  acquaintance.  Her  dark  hair, 
ironed  into  waves  such  as  were  never  seen  on  sea  or 
land,  was  beautifully  tidy;  her  small  hands  as  white 
as  snow,  and  well-kept,  though  not  over  manicured. 
Lady  Mary  could  not  imagine  when  Bruno  had  seen 
signs  of  her  moral  obliquity;  after  a  day  or  two  she 
told  the  old  man  rather  sharply  that  he  was  an  idiot, 
and  had  made  an  unjustifiable  mistake  in  the  matter. 

"  Eccellenza,  many  excuses,  I  was  an  idiot  to  say 
what  I  did,"  he  answered  respectfully;  "but — I  was 

right " 

17 


258  YELLOWLEAF 

Then  Thorn,  coming  in  late  one  night  and  having 
forgotten  his  latch-key,  went  round  to  the  glass  gal- 
lery door,  on  the  chance  of  finding  it  open.  The  door 
was  open,  but  he  did  not  go  in,  for  he  saw  through 
Aghassy's  unshaded  window  a  picture  that  kept  him 
very  quiet  for  a  moment,  then  sent  him  noiselessly  back 
to  the  front-door,  where  he  rang. 

It  was  Aghassy  who  let  him  in. 

"  Hullo,  Charles,  you?    Lost  your  key  ?  " 

"  No.  Forgot  to  put  it  in  my  pocket  when  I 
changed,  that's  all.  You  are  up  late,  Aghassy " 

He  took  off  his  coat  and  hung  it  up  as  he  spoke,  and 
Aghassy  answered  him :  "•  By  Jove !  yes,  it  is  late. 
After  two !  I've  been  working — on  my  Symphony — 
got  started  well,  and  forgot  the  time." 

Despising  himself  for  descending  to  such  a  ruse,  yet 
too  angry  to  care  much  what  he  did  so  long  as  he 
achieved  his  purpose,  Thorn  took  out  his  cigarette- 
case  and  chose  a  cigarette.  "Hard,"  he  murmured,  "on 
little  Miss  What's-her-name,  isn't  it,  these  late  hours  ?" 

Aghassy  laughed.  "  Miss  Mareschal  ?  Oh,  she 
went  to  bed  hours  ago,"  he  answered  easily. 

Trembling  with  triumphant  excitement,  Thorn 
forced  himself  to  light  his  cigarette,  and  then  with  a 
desperate  kind  of  enjoyment  he  said  in  his  quietest 
voice :  "  That's  a  damned  lie.  She's  sitting  on  the 
table  in  your  study  drinking  a  whisky  and  soda  at  this 
moment! " 

Aghassy  drew  back,  amazement  in  his  face,  but  not 
a  sign  of  guilt  or  fear.  "  The  devil  she  is!  And  how 
do  you  know  ?  " 


YELLOWLEAF  259 

Thorn  in  a  few  words  explained  how  he  knew,  and 
then  waited  for  Aghassy  to  resent  his  insult.  To  his 
immense  surprise,  however,  Aghassy  did  not  resent  it. 
Instead,  he  said  gently :  "  Of  course  you  think — 
things;  but  you're  wrong.  The  girl  is  nothing  to  me. 
I've  never  even  kissed  her.  I've  never  even  had  the 
slightest  wish  to  do  so——" 

"  Bosh !  "  The  loathing  and  contempt  in  Thorn's 
ejaculation  seemed  to  touch  the  other  man  far  more 
keenly  than  being  called  a  liar  had  done.  His  face 
changed,  its  Mongolian  look  growing  stronger,  his  eyes 
shining  in  two  tiny  points  like  a  wild  beast's.  "  Damn 
you,  Thorn,  it's  true.  If  you  make  any — any  profit 
out  of  this  with  my  wife,  I'll  break  your  neck " 

"  What  d'you  mean  by  '  make  profit '  ?  " 

They  were  speaking  in  an  undertone  for  fear  of 
being  heard,  and  the  intensity  of  their  fury  seemed 
heightened  and  made  more  dangerous  by  the  softness 
of  their  voices.  In  the  end  Aghassy  by  an  admirable 
effort  of  his  will-power  controlled  himself  and  drew 
back.  "  You  seem  anxious  to  quarrel  with  me,"  he  said 
slowly — "  ^gisthus !  " 

Thorn  laughed  shortly,  his  hands  plunged  deep  into 
his  jacket  pockets.  "  You  do  yourself  too  great  hon- 
our !  Agamemnon  was  an  honourable  man." 

"  And  I  am  not !  "  Aghassy's  face  was  really  ter- 
rible in  its  feline-like  ferocity.  "  Perhaps  not  Oh,  I 
know  that  you  have  been  talking  to  that  poor  wretch, 
Wolf  Piper — I  know  all  about  you.  But  in  this  par- 
ticular matter — about  little  Miss  Mareschal — you  hap- 
pen to  be  wrong,  and  if  you  make  trouble  for  me  about 


260  YELLOWLEAF 

her  I — I'll  force  you  to  leave  the  house."  After  a 
pause  he  added,  bending  towards  Thorn  and  positively 
whispering  the  words:  "Who  brought  another  man's 
wife  a — prayer  rug  worth  five  hundred  pounds  at  the 
very  least !  " 

In  the  dark  drawing-room  sat,  in  her  silently  mov- 
ing wheel-chair,  the  dying  old  woman  to  whom  the 
house  and  all  the  money  belonged ;  the  old  woman  who 
loved  the  one  man  and  hated  the  other. 

Too  restless  to  sleep,  as  she  often  was  lately,  Lady 
Mary  had  sat  by  the  fire  in  her  Corner  until  she  fell 
into  a  heavy  slumber.  Drake  was  in  her  own  room, 
in  bed,  but  prepared  to  come  to  her  mistress  when  she 
rang ;  but  when  Lady  Mary  woke  it  was  not  to  ring  for 
her  maid,  it  was  to  hear  the  sound  of  voices  in  the  hall. 
She  listened,  there  all  alone  in  the  huge  room ;  listened 
until  she  knew  beyond  a  doubt  to  whom  the  angry 
voices  belonged;  then  slowly,  painfully,  she  propelled 
her  chair,  by  its  wheels,  up  the  long  room,  noiselessly 
or  so  nearly  noiselessly  that  the  furious  men  did  not 
hear  her,  and  there  she  sat  in  the  darkness  by  the  open 
door,  her  worn-out  old  heart  thumping  furiously,  her 

breath  coming  in  great  uneven  pants 

****** 

"  The  prayer  rug !  So  you  knew  its  value !  "  Thorn 
said  dully. 

"Of  course  I  did,  you  thick-brained  fool !  But  that 
doesn't  matter  much.  What  does  matter  is — are  you 
going  to  take  my  word  about  that  girl  ?  " 

"  No,"  Thorn's  voice  answered.  "  I'm  not.  The 
girl  is  a  hussy,  anyone  can  see  that,  and  there  she  was, 


YELLOWLEAF  261 

at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  drinking  in  your  room — 
her  manner  was  perfectly  unmistakable — of  course  I 
don't  believe  you " 

"  She  may  be  a  hussy.  To  me  personally  she  is 
simply  a  very  capable  musical  secretary.  I  give  you 
my  word  of  honour  to  that." 

Thorn  laughed  in  an  undertone.  "  We'll  finish  this 
talk  to-morrow,"  he  said.  "  You  are  lying,  and  I  know 

it,  and  I  can't  stand  any  more  lies  to-night." 
****** 

Lady  Mary,  when  Aghassy  had  gone  back  to  his 
study,  propelled  herself  back  to  the  fire  and  rang  for 
her  maid.  "  I've  been  asleep,  Drake,"  she  explained 
as  the  woman  entered,  arrayed  in  a  grisly  stone-grey 
garment.  "I'll  go  to  bed  now." 

It  was  long,  however,  before  she  could  sleep,  for  she 
knew,  and  somehow  the  conviction  terrified  rather  than 
consoled  her,  that  Charles  had  been  wrong.  Aghassy 
had  told  the  truth  about  Miss  Mareschal. 


CHAPTER  XX 


AT  seven  o'clock  the  next  morning  Sir  Arthur  Hes- 
keth  was  awakened,  or  as  we  beautifully  say  in  Eng- 
land "  woked,"  by  a  blow  of  the  telephone  that  brought 
the,  to  him,  alarming  and  distressing  news  that  Lady 
Mary  Dampierre  had  had  a  serious  relapse,  and  seemed 
to  be  in  the  greatest  danger.  Arthur  Hesketh  had 
known  this  old  lady  for  many  years,  and  in  a  friendly 
way  loved  her  very  much.  About  twenty  minutes  past 
seven  he  was  in  his  great  car  tearing  through  the 
wintry,  deserted  streets  towards  St.  John's  Wood,  to 
find  Yellowleaf  in  high  confusion,  and  to  learn  from 
the  agitated  butler,  who  looked  very  odd  through  hav- 
ing forgotten  in  the  stress  of  his  early  call  to  brush 
his  hair,  the  reason  of  the  distress.  Bruno  had,  it 
appeared,  been  roused  from  a  sound  sleep  in  which  he 
had  been  dreaming  of  the  glass  horns  of  Be f ana  in 
Rome,  when  the  terrified  Drake  had  brought  him  down- 
stairs, in  a  really  disgraceful  condition  of  undress,  by 
her  tearful  and  frantic  account  of  his  mistress's  illness. 

"  She's  dying,  I  tell  you,  Bruno,"  the  woman  had 
repeated  over  and  over  again.  "  Her  mouth  and  chin 
is  all  purple,  and  I  can't  make  her  open  her  eyes." 

"  Signor  dottore,"  the  old  man  burst  out,  wringing 
his  hands,  "  she's  dying,  I  know  she's  dying,  my  beau- 
tiful dear  lady.  Come  quickly.  Come  quickly  and  see 

her " 

262 


YELLOWLEAF  263 

Arthur  Hesketh  managed  to  save  her,  though  only, 
as  he  afterwards  admitted,  by  the  skin  of  his  teeth. 
It  was  plain  to  his  trained  eye  that  someone  or  some- 
thing had  distressed  her  almost  to  breaking-point,  but 
there  was  no  time  for  talk  just  then,  and  before  eight 
o'clock  Bruno,  trembling  with  cold  and  misery  like  an 
ancient  monkey,  was  pulling  the  night-bell  of  a  famous 
chemist  in  Wigmore  Street.  The  heavy-eyed  young 
man  who  opened  the  door  stared  with  amazement  at 
the  prescription  the  old  man  without  a  word  held  out 
to  him.  "  This  is  pretty  stiff,"  he  remarked.  "  Will 
you  just  sit  down?  " 

Bruno  never  forgot  the  five  or  six  minutes  that  he 
sat  there  while  the  sleepy  chemist  made  up  the  pre- 
scription. It  was  very  still,  and  there  was  a  strange 
smell  of  drugs,  and  the  few  lights  brought  only  a  feeble 
clarity  to  the  great  space,  with  its  dividing  and  sub- 
dividing brown  partitions. 

When  the  young  man,  who  was  in  his  shirt-sleeves, 
came  out  with  a  wrapped-up  bottle  in  his  hands,  Bruno 
murmured  stupidly  that  he  had  no  money  with  him; 
that  it  must  go  down  on  the  account  of  Lady  Mary 
Dampierre.  The  young  man  nodded  kindly,  and  ex- 
pressed a  polite  hope  that  the  invalid  might  soon 
recover.  "  This,"  he  added  with  a  weak  and  drowsy 
jocularity,  "  will  either  kill  or  cure ;  it's  what  I  call  a 
real  dose " 

Through  the  stark,  still  streets,  bald  and  inhuman- 
ized  at  that  early  hour  in  this  drowsy  country,  the  old 
servant  was  borne  back  to  his  home,  and  as  the  car 
drew  up  outside  the  old  green  garden  door  that  he 


264  YELLOWLEAF 

knew  so  well,  he  saw  to  his  terror  the  flat,  unlovely 
form  of  Drake  arrayed  in  a  sable  cape  of  her  old 
mistress's. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Bruno,  whatever  has  kept  you  so  long?  " 
the  woman  burst  out  as  he  reached  her  side.  "  Sir 
Arthur's  a-pourin'  brandy  down  her  throat,  but  I  don't 
believe  she  will  ever  be  no  better;  and  oh,  I  wish  I 
hadn't  been  so  cross  last  night — no,  this  morning  it  was 
— when  she  rang  for  me " 


Little  Sir  Arthur  Hesketh,  his  face  white,  his  hands 
cold,  because,  although  the  doctor  he  was  also  a  friend, 
positively  snatched  the  expected  bottle  from  Bruno's 
hands.  "  Now  then,  Drake,  two  table-spoonfuls  of 
water — not  a  drop  more,  not  a  drop  less."  He  rose, 
held  the  phial  up  against  the  light,  then,  with  a  little 
shrug,  turned  to  Aghassy,  who  was  sitting  as  quiet  as 
a  statue  in  the  corner.  "  Look  here,  Aghassy,  you've 
got  the  soundest  nerves  of  the  lot.  Pour  out  ten  drops 
— you  get  out,  Charles — mind  you,  Aghassy,  ten  drops, 
not  nine,  nor  eleven;  thirteen  or  fourteen  would  kill 
her " 

Lady  Mary,  who  was  quite  unconscious,  lay  with 
her  clear  little  profile  outlined  against  the  pillow.  She 
seemed  hardly  to  breathe,  and  there  was  a  dreadful 
bluish  tinge  round  her  nose  and  mouth.  Aghassy  took 
the  phial  and  the  glass  that  Drake  held  out  to  him. 

"  Ten  drops,"  he  said  quietly.  "  My  hand  is  quite 
steady,  Sir  Arthur."  Then  he  tilted  the  bottle  and 
the  dark  drops  fell  slowly,  measuredly,  into  the  two 


YELLOWLEAF  265 

tablespoonfuls  of  water,  colouring  and  darkening  it 
Hesketh  took  the  glass  from  him  and,  kneeling  by  the 
dying  woman,  passed  his  left  arm  under  her  head  and 
raised  it  slightly.  His  face  was  very  white,  but  his 
voice  was  calm  and  strengthening  as  he  leaned  over. 
"  Dear  Mary,"  he  said,  "  my  dear  Mary,  we  want  you 
to  drink  this " 

They  were  all  standing  round  the  bed,  each  wrapped 
in  a  kind  of  garment  of  isolation  and  silence.  Lily 
was  there,  her  face  tear-stained  but  calm ;  Thorn,  look- 
ing like  a  broad,  ugly  mortuary  statue ;  young  Jimmy, 
his  face  distorted  and  blurred  with  crying ;  Drake,  red 
about  the  eyelids  and  shaky  about  the  lower  jaw ;  and, 
near  the  window  on  his  knees,  a  shabby,  little,  worn 
rosary  in  his  old  hands,  old  Bruno  knelt,  the  morning 
air  stirring  his  curly,  unbrushed  hair. 

"  Mary."  Doctor  Hesketh's  voice  seemed  to  have 
a  curious  quality  of  penetration,  and  the  sinking  old 
woman  opened  her  dim  eyes  and  looked  at  him  with  a 
kind  of  struggle  for  recognition. 

"  Yes,  it's  me,"  he  said.  "  It's  Arthur.  Just  drink 
this,  my  dear,"  the  old  man  said  to  the  old  woman, 
"  there's  a  good  girl " 

And  as  she  drank,  kindly  obedient,  the  old  Italian's 
voice  was  heard,  and  what  he  was  saying  was  this : 

"  Ora  pro  nobis,  nunc  et  in  hora  mortis  nostraet " 

n 

It  was  plainly  very  much  to  Sir  Arthur  Hesketh's 
surprise  that  Lady  Mary  ever  rallied  from  her  alarm- 
ing illness.  When,  two  or  three  days  later,  he  met 


266  YELLOWLEAF 

Thorn  in  the  drawing-room  as  he  left  his  patient  an 
hour  or  two  after  dinner,  the  two  men  walked  together 
up  towards  the  hall-door. 

"  Is  she  better  ?  "  Thorn  asked  in  a  low  voice. 

Hesketh  nodded.  "  Yes.  She'll  pull  through  this 
time,  but  she  can't  possibly  live  if  she  has  another  such 
an  attack.  Her  constitution  is  marvellous — marvel- 
lous !  Anyone  else  I  know  would  have  been  dead  forty- 
eight  hours  ago.  However "  He  paused  and 

stood  in  the  firelight,  for  the  weather  had  turned 
intensely  cold,  and  both  fireplaces  were  ablaze. 
"  Charles,"  he  began  again  slowly,  after  a  moment, 
"what  started  it?  This  crisis,  I  mean.  Have  you 
and  Aghassy  been  quarrelling  ?  " 

"  We  have  been  quarrelling,"  Thorn  answered  with 
a  frown,  "  but  she  doesn't  know  it." 

Hesketh's  keen  eyes  snapped  inquiry  at  him. 
"  Sure?  She's  as  clever  as  the  Old  Nick  himself,  you 
know;  a  wink  to  her  is  as  good  as  a  dozen  nods  to 
anyone  else " 

"  Well,  you  can  judge  for  yourself."  Thorn's  voice 
was  testy,  for  he  had  been  under  an  extraordinarily 
severe  nervous  strain  for  days,  and  his  nerves  were 
shaken.  "  You've  seen  us  together  every  day — did 
you  think  we  were  quarrelling  ?  " 

"  I  knew  you  were  itching  to  be  at  his  throat,  but  he 
Seemed  friendly  towards  you." 

"  Yes !  It's  another  of  these  '  truces '  of  his.  Upon 
my  word,  Arthur,  I  believe  that  Aunt  Mary's  illness 
has  saved  one  of  us  from — well,  from  sudden  death 
or — pretty  well  anything " 


YELLOWLEAF  267 

The  great  doctor  held  up  his  hands  to  the  blaze  and 
rubbed  them  gently  together.  "  I  thought  so,"  he  mur- 
mured— "  I  thought  so." 

Then  he  added :  "  I  think  it  would  be  a  very  good 
plan  for  you  to  go  away  for  a  while,  Charles.  I  think 
it  would  be  good  for  Lady  Mary  if  you  did." 

Thorn's  sad  eyes  stared  into  the  fire  for  a  moment. 
"  I  see  what  you  mean,  but — I  ought  to  be  here. 
Aghassy " 

"  Aghassy  is  a  great  deal  less  dangerous  to  my 
patient  than  you  are  just  now,  my  dear  fellow!  He 
may  hate  you,  but  he  doesn't  show  it,  and  that  ugly 
face  of  yours  gives  you  away  every  minute." 

"  I  know  it  does,  but Look  here,  Arthur,  sup- 
pose I  don't  go  into  her  room  at  all  ?  She  can  think 
I'm  away,  but — I  don't  want  to  leave  the  house  just 
now " 

But  when  Hesketh  had  gone  Thorn  sat  on  by  the 
fire  thinking  about  what  he  had  said. 

Inarticulately,  painfully  miserable,  he  tried  to  mar- 
shal all  the  facts;  to  look  them  straight  in  the  eyes; 
to  see  not  only  their  outward,  exoteric,  but  also  their 
inward,  occult  meaning.  Lady  Mary  apparently,  so 
far  as  health  went,  was  what  is  vulgarly  known  as 
being  on  her  last  legs;  if  her  obscure  but  valuable  life 
was  to  continue,  Thorn  knew  from  his  glimpse  through 
Hesketh's  spectacles  that  the  old  lady  must  have  per- 
fect peace,  perfect  contentment  of  soul.  .  .  .  The 
flame  crept  along  the  length  of  the  log  in  a  smooth 
unbroken  line,  and  then  cascaded  down  the  edge,  burn- 
ing up  into  a  new  brilliant  fire  and  splintering  into  little 


268  YELLOWLEAF 

sparks  of  crimson  glory.  .  .  .  There  was  Jimmy, 
too,  to  be  considered;  and,  at  the  thought  of  the  boy, 
Thorn  looked  up,  rubbing  his  bony  jaw  with  his  bony 
left  hand.  //  Jimmy  went  to  the  south  of  France  with 
this  seemingly  satisfactory  Brandon  Roper,  M.B.,  all 
would  be  well.  Aghassy  had  given  in,  so  far  as  the 
boy's  own  wishes  were  concerned;  but  Charles  Thorn 
remembered  the  look  in  Aghassy's  face  as  he  had  ex- 
plained his  attitude  towards  his  stepson.  If  Jimmy  had 
refused  absolutely  to  go  to  the  south  of  France  with 
Mr.  Roper,  Aghassy  had  said,  in  so  many  words,  he 
would  not  have  felt  justified  in  using  his  undoubted 
legal  authority  over  the  boy,  and  Thorn  knew  that  this 
was  only  a  polite  and  useful  way  of  saying  that  his,  and 
therefore  Charles's,  authority  was  bounded  by  certain 
definite  limits.  "  If  I  insisted,"  Thorn  thought,  "  on 
his  going  to  Bordeaux,  he  would  very  probably  influ- 
ence Jimmy  without  any  words  to  declare  that  he  would 
not  go ;  and  then — where  should  I  be  ?  " 

Lady  Mary  in  the  meantime,  he  reflected,  like  some 
smitten  plant  was  slowly  throwing  out  feeble  shoots 
towards  health  and  happiness.  Thorn  could  not  make 
out  whether  or  not  the  old  woman,  so  resolute,  so  clear- 
eyed  as  a  rule,  was,  or  was  not,  seeing  through  the 
romantic  and  illusory  presentation  of  events  offered  to 
her  by  Aghassy.  Things  seemed  better;  Jimmy  had 
agreed  to  go;  Bruno,  too,  seemed  more  at  ease — poor 
old  Latin  captive — than  he  had  for  a  long  time  been; 
and  even  Drake  appeared  to  have  been  purged,  through 
her  anxiety,  of  her  most  saliently  unpleasant  qualities. 
.  .  .  And  yet — and  yet — Charles  was  anxious,  and 


YELLOWLEAF  269 

all  his  tentacles  drew  back  afraid  of  some  sudden,  un- 
expected, horrid  attack.  Thinking  of  all  these  things, 
he  fell  asleep  in  his  chair,  and  woke  hours  later,  chilled 
and  stiff.  At  such  times  even  Dawn,  the  rosy-fingered, 
can  look  to  be  a  young  woman  of  woe  and  evil  omen. 


The  days  passed  in  a  dreadful  monotony;  nothing 
was  happening;  and  somehow  that  was  the  very  worst 
of  all — that  lack  of  action,  that  arrestation  of  events. 

And  yet  Thorn  knew  that  before  long  things  would 
happen,  direful  things,  with  punishment  more  direful 
swift  on  its  heels;  and  while  he  could  not,  in  obedience 
to  Arthur  Hesketh's  hint,  leave  Yellowleaf,  yet,  in  his 
nervous  disequilibration,  he  felt  that  he  could  not  re- 
main there.  His  decision  changed  a  dozen  times  in  as 
many  hours. 

The  house  had  become,  the  old  quiet  house  behind 
its  high  walls,  a  place  of  terror,  almost  a  place  of 
horror  to  him,  and  at  last  his  misery  of  mind  grew  such 
that  one  morning,  girding  up  his  loins,  having  rein- 
forced himself  with  coffee  and  fried  eggs  and  bacon, 
the  wretchedly  unhappy  man  went  into  Lady  Mary's 
room,  and  announced  to  that  stout-hearted  old  pilgrim 
that  he  had  come  to  tell  her  that  he  was  going  away. 
"  I've  decided  at  last,"  he  announced. 

She  was  still  very  feeble,  but  her  fine  old  eyes  in 
their  well-cut  orbits  glowed  warmly  as  she  looked  up 
at  him. 

"  Et  tu,  Brute !  "  she  said  in  an  undertone.  "  Thou, 
too,  my  dear!  " 


270  YELLOWLEAF 

Thorn  tried  to  laugh,  but  it  was  a  lamentable 
cachinnation,  mirthless  and  dry;  a  sound  of  rubbed- 
together  husks,  a  sound  of  no  mirth  or  merriness. 

"  Funk  it,  do  you?  "  she  asked  drily. 

"  No,  I  don't,  Aunt  Mary — at  least,  I  do  funk  see- 
ing you  so  ill.  Do  you  know,"  he  went  on,  bending 
over  her,  "  that  I  can  remember,  when  I  was  a  very, 
very  little  boy — a  mere  shrimp  of  a  kid — your  teaching 
me  how  important  it  was  to  wash  just  above  my  ears? 
Well,  somehow  to  this  day  I  always  rub  my  finger  on 
the  soap  and  then  just  go  for  myself  there  between  the 
topmost  roots  of  my  ears  and  the  lowermost  roots  of 
the  hairs  of  my  head,  and  I  think  of  you,  dear  Aunt 
Mary,  I  think  of  you — I  always  think  of  you." 

"  Charles,"  the  old  woman  said  suddenly,  "  you're 
going  away,  and  without  being  a  shocking  liar  I  could 
not  say  that  I  was  sorry ;  but  tell  me  this,  just  because 
I'm  a  very  old  woman,  tell  me  the  real  truth — will 
you?" 

Charles  looked  at  her  with  heavy  eyes — eyes,  in 
their  setting  of  middle-aged  lines,  so  much  more  tragic 
than  the  very  saddest  of  young  eyes.  "  I  will  tell  you 
anything  I  can,  Aunt  Mary,"  he  said. 

She  drew  his  big  hand  down  to  her  pillow,  and  lean- 
ing over,  made  as  if  she  were  trying  to  make  a  little 
hollow  with  her  chin  in  his  palm.  "  How  do  you  feel," 
she  asked  earnestly,  "  about  Jinks?  " 

"  Dear  Aunt  Mary — I'm  beaten,  clean  beaten,  by 
Jacques,  and  all  the  things  that  seem  to  have  turned 
into  accessories  of  his.  He's  so  much  cleverer  than 
any  of  the  rest  of  us  that  the  only  thing  I  feel  to  be 


YELLOWLEAF  271 

still  on  our  side  is  the  fact  of  Jimmy's  youth.  I  can 
understand  the  Omnipotent  Power  being  unkind  to 
troublesome  babies  who  yell  for  anger  against  them; 
or  I  can  understand  the  annihilation  of  the  over-ripe ; 
the  clawing  down  from  their  thrones  of  ruthless  young 

climbers,  or  old  usurpers "  After  a  pause  he 

added :  "  What  I  can't  understand  is  the  deliberate 
blighting  of  blossoming  youth " 

The  old  lady  nodded,  loosening  one  of  her  long 
white  pigtails  that  had  come  to  anchor  on  her  shoulder, 
and  casting  it  forth  with  a  careless  gesture.  "  That's 
a  good  phrase,  Charles,  '  blossoming  youth.'  You  feel 
that  the  gods  must  help  us  about  young  Jimmy  ?  Well 
then,  so  do  I  feel  that  they  ought  to,  but — what  are 
you  and  I,  in  view  of  that  belief  of  ours,  going  to  do 
about  the  child  ?  He  must  be  saved,  but — how  ?  Tell 
me  that." 

Thorn  made  a  helpless  gesture.  "  I'm  sure  /  don't 
know..  Thank  God,  he'll  soon  be  off  to " 

Lady  Mary  laughed  softly,  although  her  eyes  were 
dark  with  anxiety.  "  Are  you  sure  ?  From  what  that 
wily  old  serpent  Bruno  says,  I  really  don't  think  that 
he  means  to  go  to  Bordeaux." 

Charles  started.    "  Don't  you?  " 

"No;  you  yourself  heard  Aghassy  say  that  if 
Jimmy  really  objected  to  going  he,  Jacques,  would  not 
feel  justified  in  forcing  him  to  do  so " 

"Yes,  I  heard  that,"  Charles  murmured;  "but  he 
must  go.  Why,  he  said  he  would — If  he  didn't," 
he  added,  frowning,  "I  don't  see  how  on  earth  7 
could!" 


272  YELLOWLEAF 

Lady  Mary  stretched  out  her  little  white  hand  to 
the  table  where  her  different  medicines  stood.  "  I  will 
have  a  dose,"  she  said,  "  of  my  '  mich  perilly  '  medicine, 
please,  Charles — I'm  feeling  a  little  tired.  That's  just 
the  point.  If  the  child  changes  his  mind — and  Bruno 
insists  that  he's  going  to — Aghassy  won't  insist,  and  if 
you  aren't  here " 

Thorn  took  up  the  ominous-looking  blue  bottle  and 
held  it  against  the  light.  "  Is  it  time  for  it?  "  he  asked. 
"Ten  drops,  isn't  it?" 

"  Yes,  ten  drops.  Arthur  Hesketh  says  that  twelve 
or  thirteen  would  kill  me,  and  God  knows,"  she  added, 
"  that,  wicked  old  world  as  it  is,  I  have  no  wish  to 
leave  it  one  hour  sooner  than  I  need !  "  She  laughed, 
but  she  was  very  weak,  and  Charles,  when  he  had  given 
her  the  prescribed  ten  drops,  knelt  by  her  golden  bed, 
with  her  poor,  time-silvered  head  on  his  thrust-out 
arm,  waiting  for  her  agitated  heart  to  quiet  down 
before  he  left  her. 

"  Are  you  all  right  now?  "  he  asked  her. 

She  nodded.  "  Yes,  better,  thanks.  Now  run 
along,  Charles.  I  must  try  to  get  some  sleep ;  and  you 
go  and  see  what  you  can  find  out  from  Jimmy,  will 
you?  Pump  him."  After  a  second,  as  he  reached  the 
door,  she  added :  "  Be  sly,  Charles,  lead  him  on,  make 
him  talk.  To  the  deuce  with  all  scruples!  " 

in 

That  same  evening  Lady  Mary,  who  for  some  time 
had  been  asleep,  was  roused  by  an  unusual  sound  that, 
though  it  did  not  frighten,  startled  her.  It  was  two 


YELLOWLEAF  273 

o'clock,  she  saw  by  the  flickering  night-light ;  she  knew 
that  Drake  was  asleep,  and  so  could  not  imagine  who 
could  be  up  in  the  house  at  that  hour.  After  a  moment 
she  heard  something  more,  this  time  the  soft  closing 
of  a  door,  so  she  rang  for  her  maid  and  told  her  that 
someone  was  moving  about  in  the  passage.  "  Open 
the  door  and  see  who  it  is."  But  Drake,  all  forbidding 
though  she  was,  happened  to  be  a  timid  soul,  and  de- 
clared that  she  was  afraid  to  leave  the  bedroom.  Lady 
Mary  glanced  at  her  with  contempt.  Fear  was  prac- 
tically unknown  to  her,  and  like  all  brave  people,  par- 
ticularly brave  women,  she  had  no  patience  with  cow- 
ards. "  Nonsense !  "  she  said.  "  It  must  be  burglars." 

"  That's  just  what  I'm  afraid  of,  My  Lady.  Shall 
I  ring  for  Bruno  ?  " 

But  this  the  old  woman  would  not  hear  of.  "  Don't 
be  ridiculous.  If  you  won't  go,  bring  me  my  dressing- 
gown  and  my  chair.  I  suppose  you  won't  be  afraid 
to  push  me  across  the  floor  ?  " 

Drake  implored  her  not  to  get  up,  almost  threaten- 
ing her  with  sudden  death  if  she  persisted  in  making 
such  a  journey;  but  Lady  Mary's  blood  was  up.  She 
meant  to  know  who  was  sneaking  round  her  house 
at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  so  a  few  moments  later 
the  indignant  and  terrified  maid  was  propelling  her 
across  the  drawing-room  floor.  The  woman  opened 
the  door  quietly,  and  then  Lady  Mary  sent  her  back 
for  her  electric  torch,  after  which,  bidding  her  stay 
where  she  was,  the  old  woman  pushed  herself  forward, 
playing  the  light  up  and  down  the  passage,  which  was 
empty,  and  as  silent  as  the  grave ;  and  then,  suddenly, 

18 


274"  YELLOWLEAF 

she  knew  where  the  noise  had  come  from,  for  there  was 
a  light  under  the  door  of  Aghassy's  study.  By  some 
instinct  that  she  did  not  even  try  to  analyze,  she  bade 
the  servant  go  back  into  the  drawing-room  and  close 
the  door.  She  wanted  to  open  that  door  alone.  She 
was  not  frightened,  she  was  intensely  interested;  all 
the  pleasures  of  the  chase  were  raging  in  her  old  breast 
as  with  great  skill  she  drew  her  chair  alongside  the 
door,  and  very  gently  turned  the  knob. 

She  was  expecting  to  find  Bruno's  prophecy  fulfilled 
regarding  Miss  Mareschal,  and  she  had  been  right,  but 
right  in  a  way  that  brought  such  a  blinding  flash  of 
understanding  to  her  that  she  literally  could  not  breathe 
for  a  moment.  Miss  Mareschal  was  there,  her  demure- 
ness  all  gone,  her  manner  and  voice  such  that  no  one 
could  have  been  blind  enough  to  misread  them ;  but  the 
face  leaning  through  the  clouds  of  cigarette-smoke 
across  the  table  towards  her  was  not  the  powerful, 
feline  one  she  had  expected — it  was  Jimmy's,  flushed 
and  stirred  and  very,  very  bad  to  look  at.  The  latent 
evil  against  which  Charles  Thorn  and  she  had  been 
fighting  their  slowly  losing  battle  had  now  the  upper 
hand  in  the  boy.  The  weaknesses  that  in  a  youth  of 
his  age  can  be,  and  often  are,  pathetic  and  forgivable, 
had  lost  their  boyish  aspect,  and  looked  the  bad,  de- 
grading weaknesses  of  a  mature  man.  Neither  of 
them  had  heard  the  quiet  opening  of  the  door;  they 
were  too  busy  with  each  other  to  look  towards  it.  Then 
Jimmy  spoke,  and  his  voice  was  thick  and  blurred,  and 
the  old  lady  noticed  that  two  glasses  stood  on  the  table 
beside  them.  If  Lady  Mary  had  been  strong  and  well 


YELLOWLEAF  275 

at  that  moment  she  would  have  precipitated  matters, 
and  probably  accomplished  a  crashing  victory,  but  the 
ominous  thumping  of  her  heart  forced  her  to  leave  the 
field.  She  knew  that  any  great  excitement  might  kill 
her,  and  she  knew  that  she  must  be  ready  for  action 
the  next  day.  So  very  quietly  she  withdrew,  and  went 
back  to  the  agitated,  blue-nosed  Drake,  the  very  hairs 
of  whose  chin  were  quivering  with  terror.  "  It's  all 
right,"  she  said.  "  It's  only  Mr.  Aghassy  working  at 
his  music  " ;  and  she  went  back  to  bed. 

And  now  she  knew  why  Aghassy  had  had  Miss 
Mareschal  come  to  Yellowleaf,  and  she  knew  that  her 
conviction,  that  Jimmy,  when  the  time  came,  would 
refuse  to  go  to  the  south  of  France,  was  correct. 

Charles  should  not  now  go  away.  He  should  stay 
and  help  her  in  what  she  felt  to  be  the  greatest  crisis 

in  her  life. 

****** 

rv 

The  next  morning  she  sent  for  Thorn  and  told  him 
of  her  discovery.  He,  warned  by  Sir  Arthur  Hesketh, 
took  it  very  quietly  so  far  as  words  went,  but  she  knew 
how  deep  and  bitter  his  anger  was. 

"  I  mustn't  talk  much,  Charles,"  she  said.  "  Sup- 
pose you  go  for  a  walk  and  think  it  over,  and  I  will 
think  it  over  here,  and  then  we  will  decide  what  to  do, 
for  we  must  act  quickly." 

Thorn  nodded.     "  All  right,  Aunt  Mary." 

She  tried  to  take  his  hand,  but  he  drew  it  away,  and 
she  knew  it  was  because  he  didn't  wish  her  to  know 
how  ice-cold  he  had  grown. 


CHAPTER  XXI 


As  soon  as  Thorn  was  out  of  the  house  Lady  Mary 
rang  for  Bruno.  He  was  surprised  to  find  her  looking 
much  better  and  fuller  of  energy  than  she  had  been 
since  her  illness, 

"  Bruno,"  she  said,  "  I've  found  out  about  Miss 
Mareschal.  You  were  right,  although  she  was  not  here 
to  amuse  him." 

The  old  man  stared,  and  looked  puzzled.  Then  he 
answered  slowly.  "  Eccellenza,  you  know  best,  but 
although  I  am  only  a  servant  and  an  ignorant  man,  I 
am  a  man,  and  I  know  that  there's  more  in  this  than 
just  the  Symphony." 

"  I  am  going  to  send  you  for  Mr.  Aghassy  in  a 
moment,"  the  old  woman  went  on,  paying  no  heed  to 
his  words.  "  I'm  going  to  tell  him  what  I've  found 
out,  and  force  him  to  get  rid  of  Miss  Mareschal  and 
to  get  Master  Jimmy  off  to  France  at  once.  Give  me 
ten  drops  of  my  strong  medicine,  and  don't  tell  anyone 
you  have  done  it.  I'm  going  to  have  a  very  tiring 
scene,  and  my  heart  must  not  stop  in  the  middle  of  it." 

"  God  forbid !  "  the  old  man  murmured  as  he  took 
the  little  bottle  from  its  corner  on  the  washstand,  and, 
moistening  its  lip  with  the  stopper,  began  very  care- 
fully measuring  out  the  ten  drops.  When  he  had 
added  the  water  to  it  he  handed  it  to  his  mistress,  and 
said  thoughtfully,  referring  to  her  last  speech : 
276 


YELLOWLEAF  277 

"  Master  Jimmy — many  excuses,  Your  Excellency 
— but  I  thought  it  was  settled  that  Master  Jimmy  was 
to  go  on  Friday?  His  Lordship  said  this  morning 
that — that  I  had  been  wrong,  and  that  he  was 
going " 

"  Yes,  but  that's  just  what  I  want  to  tell  you.  This 
Miss  Mareschal  is  here  to  prevent  his  going!  " 

The  old  man  fell  back,  his  face  working  suddenly. 
"  Holy  Madonna!  It  cannot  be!  He,  even  he  would 
not  do  such  a  thing  as  that.  Our  Master  Jimmy,  my 
Captain  Jim's  son,  to  be  mixed  up  with  that  canaglia! " 

Lady  Mary  shrugged  her  shoulders,  about  which 
was  wrapped  her  ancient  ermine  cloak.  "  Yes,  that's 
exactly  what  he  is  doing.  If  I  hadn't  been  a  fool,  I 
would  have  seen  it  long  ago."  She  had  never  seen  the 
old  servant  so  horrified,  so  indignant. 

"It's  worse  than  what  he  did  to  your  little  dog, 
isn't  it  ?  "  she  said  kindly,  with  a  feeling  that  he  was 
too  old,  and  worn  away  with  his  nearly  half  a  century 
of  service  to  her  and  hers,  to  be  subjected  to  such  a 
scene.  But  the  old  fellow's  sense  of  proportion  was 
unshattered. 

"  Eccellenza,  my  poor  Risotto  was  only  a  dog  after 
all.  It's  a  human  soul  he's  trying  to  destroy  now " 

Lady  Mary  laughed,  a  grim  little  laugh  full  of  limit- 
less determination.  "  You  needn't  be  afraid,  my  dear 
old  friend.  He  will  not  succeed  in  this  little  plan. 
I've  told  His  Lordship,  and  I  wish  you  to  go  and  ask 
Mr.  Aghassy  to  come  and  speak  to  me.  You  will 
come,  I  know,  the  very  instant  I  ring.  When  His 
Lordship  comes  in  ask  him  to  wait  in  the  front  draw- 
ing-room till  I  send  you  for  him " 


278  YELLOWLEAF 

A  few  minutes  later  Aghassy  appeared  spick  and 
span,  and  healthy-looking,  but  with  on  his  face  a 
visible  cloud  of  vexation;  a  cloud  so  visibly  not  affected 
that  the  old  lady  instantly  suspected  it  of  being  assumed. 
When  he  had  kissed  her  hand  and  sat  down,  after  affec- 
tionate enquiries  as  to  her  night,  he  began,  before  she 
could  speak,  by  saying  hastily :  "  I've  just  had  my  first 
quarrel  with  Jimmy,  and  upon  my  word  it's  upset  me 
more  than  I  should  have  thought  possible." 

"With  Jimmy?" 

"  Yes.  You  will  remember  his  getting  out  of  me 
the  other  day  that  if  he  positively  refused  to  go  with 
Roper,  I  should  not  feel  justified  in  forcing  him  to? 
Well,  an  hour  ago  the  young  rascal  came  into  my  room 
and  told  me  that  he  had  decided  quite  definitely  to 
stay  here." 

"  Dear  me !  "  murmured  Lady  Mary  drily. 

He  had  been  looking  out  of  the  window,  and  at  her 
tone  gave  her  a  short,  sidelong  glance  without  turning 
his  head,  one  of  his  most  cat-like  tricks  and  one  that 
she  always  detested. 

"  And  you  have  tried  to  persuade  him  and  failed  ?  " 
she  asked,  suddenly  controlling  her  voice,  and  speak- 
ing in  an  innocent  way. 

He  nodded.  "  I  have;  I  have  done  everything  in 
my  power  and  I  have  failed,  and  now  I  give  up.  Per- 
haps you  and  Charles  can  make  him  go — I'm  not  going 
to  try  any  more.  After  all,  he's  only  my  stepson " 

Lady  Mary  could  not  remember  afterwards  what 
she  had  been  on  the  point  of  answering,  when  the  door 
opened  and  Bruno  appeared,  announcing  the  doctor. 


YELLOWLEAF  279 

Doctor  Hesketh  trotted  in  with  a  large  bottle  in 
either  hand  and  a  beaming  smile  on  his  thoughtful 
face.  "  Well,  my  dear  Lady  Mary,"  he  burst  out,  "  you 
look  better  this  morning. — Good-morning,  Aghassy. — 
And  you  will  look  better  still  when  you've  had  a  glass 
of  this  wine !  It  will  do  you  more  good  than  all  the 
drugs  in  the  world." 

Aghassy  had  risen,  and  looked  at  the  dusty  bottles 
the  doctor  had  put  on  the  table,  and  his  eyes  lighted 
up.  "  By  Jove !  "  he  said,  "  where  did  you  get  that  ?  " 

"  One  of  my  patients,  Lord  Blauschwert,  sent  it  to 
me  last  night.  It's  real  Imperial  Tokay,  given  to  him 
by  that  old  reprobate  the  Emperor  of  Austria.  I  have 
taken  the  liberty  of  asking  Bruno  to  bring  a  corkscrew 
and  some  glasses,  and  we  will  drink  to  your  health " 

"  And  the  benevolent  Blauschwert's,"  put  in  Lady 
Mary. 

Bruno  came  in  with  a  tray,  and  being  warned  on  no 
account  to  shake  the  literally  priceless  bottles,  he  was 
allowed  to  open  one,  after  which  Sir  Arthur  poured 
out  three  glasses,  and  they  each  took  one — bowing 
politely  to  each  other  in  the  old-fashioned  way — and 
they  sipped,  and  sipped  again.  Lady  Mary  felt  her 
tired  heart  beat  stronger  and  more  steadily,  and  seemed 
to  know  that  somehow  or  other  Aghassy  would  be  de- 
feated in  his  plotting. 

"  By  the  way,"  Hesketh  went  on  after  a  moment, 
when  the  panegyric  of  the  generous  wine  had  died 
away,  "  it's  a  good  thing  that  young  rascal,  Jim,  is  off 
to  France;  I  believe  he's  falling  in  love  with  that 
wicked  little  secretary  of  yours,  Aghassy !  " 


280  YELLOWLEAF 

Aghassy  started,  for  once  in  his  life  genuinely  be- 
traying his  feelings.  "  Nonsense,  nonsense,  my  dear 
Sir  Arthur.  The  boy's  just  nineteen,  and  the  girl  must 
be  seven  or  eight  and  twenty." 

"  That  may  be.  Boys  of  nineteen  will  fall  in  love 
with  someone,  as  we  all  know,  though  we  most  of  us 
refuse  to  admit  it  in  the  case  of  our  own  youngsters ! 
At  all  events,  I  have  just  met  them  tearing  down  the 
St.  John's  Wood  road  in  a  taxi,  very  much  engrossed 
in  each  other — very  much  indeed !  " 

Aghassy  laughed,  rising  leisurely.  "  Perhaps  that 
explains  my  trouble  with  him  this  morning,"  he  said. 
"  Lady  Mary  will  tell  you  about  it — I  must  get  back 
to  my  work.  I  sent  Miss  Mareschal  on  an  errand,  and 
she  will  be  back  soon.  I  will  warn  her  about  the 
kid " 

He  went  out,  and  the  two  old  friends  were  alone. 

"  When  is  Thorn  going  ?  "  Hesketh  asked,  looking 
at  his  watch.  "  They're  a  dreadful  pair  of  fellows  to 
live  in  the  house  with,  those  two.  You  will  be  glad  to 
have  one  of  them  away,  even  though  it's  Charles !  " 

Lady  Mary  laughed.  "  Yes,  I  shall  be  very  glad  to 
have  one  of  them  away,"  she  confessed  with  a  funny 
little  nod,  "  but  I  am  not  quite  sure  which  one  it  will 

Hesketh  rose,  having  felt  her  pulse  and  told  her  to 
stay  in  bed  another  day  or  two.  "  Well,  make  it  as 
soon  as  you  can.  Aghassy's  not  so  bad  when  he's 
alone.  He's  certainly  a  wonderfully  agreeable  fellow ! 
Charles  has  as  bad  an  effect  on  him  as  he  has  on 
Charles,  and  I  must  say,  to  give  the  devil  his  due,  that 


YELLOWLEAF  281 

I  don't  much  wonder.  That  gloomy  face  of  Charles's 
would  get  on  my  nerves,  I'm  sure."  Humming  under 
his  breath,  as  was  his  way,  the  great  doctor  marched 
up  the  hall  and  let  himself  out  into  the  dark  January 
morning.  At  the  gate  he  met  Thorn  coming  in,  and 
they  stopped  and  shook  hands. 

"  Lady  Mary's  much  better  this  morning.  You  go 
and  have  a  glass  of  that  Tokay  I  brought  her.  It's 
magnificent  stuff." 

"  Who  gave  it  to  her?  "  Charles  asked  suspiciously. 

"  I  did,  so  you  needn't  worry  about  it's  coming  from 
Aghassy !  Perfectly  harmless,  I  assure  you." 

Thorn  went  on  in,  and  was  about  to  cross  the  hall 
to  the  drawing-room  door  when  Aghassy  came  down- 
stairs and  joined  him. 

"  Have  you  seen  Jim  this  morning?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,"  Thorn  growled. 

"  Well,  you  had  better  see  him  when  he  comes  in. 
He  has  changed  his  mind  about  going  to  France,  and 
there's  the  deuce  to  pay." 

Thorn  did  not  speak,  and  after  a  minute  Aghassy 
went  on  in  a  jibing  voice :  "  I  understand  you  have 
decided  to  leave  us  for  a  while  ?  "  Very  devils  of 
malice  seemed  dancing  in  his  eyes,  and  Thorn  drew 
back,  biting  his  lips.  There  was  something  odd  about 
Aghassy  that  morning.  He  seemed  full  of  a  triumph 
that  he  scarcely  tried  to  conceal,  and  this  surprised 
Thorn,  and  disconcerted  him. 

"  I  am  not  going,"  he  brought  out  suddenly. 
"  Since  you  have  set  that  girl  on  Jimmy  I  feel  that  I 
am  necessary  here." 


282  YELLOWLEAF 

Aghassy  laughed,  spreading  out  his  fingers  with  an 
absurd  assumption  of  modesty.  "  My  dear  fellow," 
he  cried,  "  you  flatter  me.  I  am  a  villain,  on  doubt,  but 
I  am  not  nearly  such  a  subtle  villain  as  you  seem  to 
think.  If  Jimmy's  having  a  little  flirtation  with  Pearl 
Mareschal,  I  don't  know  that  it  will  hurt  him.  We  all 
begin  sooner  or  later.  Even  you,  no  doubt,  had  fancies 
before.  ..." 

Thorn's  face  had  gone  perfectly  white,  and  his  great 
hands  were  clenching  and  unclenching  uncontrollably; 
his  mouth  was  set  and  he  did  not  speak,  but  his  deep 
breathing  was  very  audible.  Presently  he  moved  away 
from  Aghassy,  and  started  slowly  towards  the  stairs; 
but  Aghassy  followed  him,  for  suddenly  a  correspond- 
ing rage,  the  dangerous,  reasonless  rage  that  springs, 
everything  else  aside,  from  a  constitutional  hatred, 
had  gripped  him,  and  his  advance,  soft-footed  and 
noiseless,  gave  him  the  air  of  being  about  to  spring  at 
his  enemy. 

"  I  got  home  that  time,  didn't  I  ?  "  he  said  quietly. 
"  You  tame  cat !  You  feeder  out  of  the  hands  of 
women ! " 

Thorn  knocked  him  down,  almost  as  surprised  him- 
self as  his  victim  at  what  he  had  done.  Before 
Aghassy  could  move,  both  men  became  aware  that 
they  were  no  longer  alone.  In  the  drawing-room  door 
stood  Drake,  carrying  the  little  tray  with  the  three 
empty  wine-glasses  on  it,  and  opposite  her,  a  big  silver 
cup  in  one  hand  and  a  piece  of  wash-leather  in  the 
other,  was  the  green-aproned  Bruno,  regarding  the 
scene  with  horrified  eyes.  There  was  a  long  pause, 


YELLOWLEAF  283 

and  then  Aghassy  slowly  rose,  and  Thorn  saw  that 
the  deadly  rage  in  his  face  was  evenly  balanced  by  a 
deadly  triumph. 

"  Drake !  Bruno !  "  he  said  in  his  voice  at  his 
softest,  but  perfectly  steady.  "  You  have  seen  this, 
and  you  will  not  be  surprised  when  you  hear  that  Lord 
Drax  will  be  leaving  Yellowleaf  to-morrow." 

Drake  was  about  to  answer  when  Bruno  motioned 
her  to  be  silent  "  You  and  I  are  only  servants/'  the 
old  man  said,  drawing  her  across  the  shining  old 
boards;  "  what  our  masters  do  is  no  concern  of  ours." 

When  the  two  men  were  alone,  Thorn  spoke.  "  I 
don't  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said.  "  I'm  glad  I  knocked 
you  down.  I  will  go  to-morrow,  and  I  will  take  Jimmy 
with  me." 

"  That,  of  course,"  Aghassy  answered,  "  would 
make — my  wife — extremely  happy " 

ii 

Thorn  sat  upstairs  in  his  room  till  after  lunch-time, 
going  through  a  struggle  that  left  him  limp  and  old- 
looking.  The  game  was  up  now,  and  he  must  go.  He 
couldn't  take  Jimmy  away  from  his  mother,  yet  how 
could  he  leave  the  boy  to  the  insupportable  machina- 
tions of  his  stepfather?  His  old  aunt  was  very  ill,  and 
she  loved  him,  and  would  grieve  for  him.  There 
seemed  to  be  no  possible  way  out  of  the  horrible  tangle 
things  had  got  into  in  the  quiet  old  shut-away  house. 
It  was  characteristic  of  the  man  that  he  gave  very  little 
thought  to  his  own  inevitable  unhappiness  in  leaving 
Lily;  his  hopeless  love  for  her  was  as  much  a  part  of 


284  YELLOWLEAF 

him  as  his  long  ugly  nose,  and  he  gave  little  conscious 
thought  to  either.  Lily  didn't  love  Aghassy;  he  knew 
that  she  never  had  loved  the  man ;  but  as  far  as  she  was 
concerned  she  would  be  safer  without  Charles's  pres- 
ence than  she  was  with  it,  because  so  long  as  Charles 
was  in  the  house  there  would  be  danger  of  his  irritating 
Aghassy  into  some  hideous  self -revelation.  Over  and 
over  again  these  different  thoughts  toiled  through  the 
man's  tired  brain,  and  at  last  in  his  exhaustion,  and 
unconscious  hunger,  he  fell  asleep  on  his  low  divan, 
and  when  he  woke  up  the  early  winter  dusk  had  come, 
and  his  room  was  dark.  Last  night  Lady  Mary  had 
chanced  on  the  scene  in  Aghassy's  study ;  this  morning 
Drake  and  Bruno  chanced  on  the  scene  in  the  hall ;  and 
now,  as  he  lay  there  miserable,  impotent  and  chilly,  he 
chanced  on  a  scene  himself. 

His  door  was  open,  and  exactly  opposite  it  was  the 
room  occupied  by  Miss  Mareschal;  and  presently  he 
heard  her  coming  upstairs,  her  high  heels  clicking,  and 
go  into  her  room,  after  turning  on  the  light  in  the 
passage.  He  realized  that  she  had  probably  come  up 
to  tidy  herself  for  tea,  which  she  always  had  in  the 
study,  by  her  own  wish.  For  a  moment  a  wild  project 
of  trying  to  bribe  her  to  go  occupied  his  mind.  She 
would  go,  no  doubt,  for  money,  and  he  had  plenty ;  but 
the  world  was  full  of  Pearl  Mareschals,  and  he  realized 
that  such  a  course  would  be  merely  absurd.  The  girl 
was  singing  now  in  her  room  as  she  moved  about,  and 
Thorn,  whom  the  cheerful  sound  annoyed,  was  about 
to  close  the  door  when  he  heard  very  cautious,  slow 
footsteps  approaching  from  the  front  of  the  house,  and 


YELLOWLEAF  285 

presently  Jimmy  came  down  the  passage  in  his  stock- 
ing-feet. Assuming  his  cousin's  dark  room  to  be 
empty,  the  boy  looked  hastily  down  the  stairs  and 
then,  without  knocking,  scratched  softly  at  Miss 
Mareschal's  door,  which  was  opened. 

"  Oh,  you  wretch !  "  she  cried.  "  You  mustn't  come 
to  my  door.  Only  suppose  somebody  heard  you !  " 

"  Nobody's  heard  me.  I  say,  I  want  you  to  go  out 
with  me  to-night.  A  fellow  I  know  belongs  to  that 
dancing-club  in  Piccadilly  and  I've  fixed  it  up  with  him 
over  the  telephone  to  take  us.  He  has  a  friend,  a  girl, 
and  we're  going  to  dine  somewhere  first  and  then  go 
on  to  the  dance." 

Thorn  noticed  that  the  little  pale  face  that  in  its 
workday  garb  was  uninteresting,  almost  plain,  was 
very  attractive  indeed  now,  sparkling  with  mischief 
and  pleasure  as  she  listened  to  Jimmy's  plan.  "  I  can't 
go — I  couldn't  get  out.  Besides,  I  don't  think  your 
mother  would  like  you  to  go " 

Thorn's  heart  ached  at  the  foolish,  sly  expression 
on  the  boy's  face  as  he  answered  her.  "  You  don't  sup- 
pose I'm  going  to  tell — anyone!  I  will  tell  Jacques, 
my  stepfather,  though;  he  will  fix  it  up.  He's  not  a 
bit  of  a  prig.  Will  you  come?  " 

She  pretended  to  hesitate.  "  I've  got  to  go  down 
now,  for  that  old  Italian  sneak  will  be  bringing  in  my 
tea.  Yes,  of  course,  I'll  come  if  Mr.  Aghassy  doesn't 
mind.  I  adore  tangoing." 

Jimmy  nodded.  "  Do  you,  darling?  We  will  have 
a  rattling  good  dinner.  I  think,  Pearl,  you  might  give 
me  a  kiss " 


286  YELLOWLEAF 

Thorn  shut  his  eyes.  There  was  no  particular  harm 
in  a  boy  of  nineteen  kissing  a  girl  of  twenty-seven,  but 
there  was  something  in  Miss  Mareschal's  manner  that 
was  extremely  displeasing,  and  that  she  was  corrupt 
and  rather  vile  under  her  demure  mask  was  quite  as 
obvious.  When  Jimmy  had  stolen  back  to  his  room 
and  the  young  woman  had  gone  downstairs,  Thorn 
closed  his  door  and  sat  for  a  long  time  by  his  cold 
hearth  wearily  thinking  once  more. 

in 

At  ten  o'clock  that  night,  as  Lily  sat  by  her  mother- 
in-law  reading  aloud,  there  was  a  violent  pull  at  the 
bell,  and  when  the  door  was  opened  a  confused  sound 
of  voices  reached  the  two  women. 

"  Who  can  that  be  ?  "  Lady  Mary  asked. 

Lily  lay  down  the  book  and  rose.  "  I'll  go  and  see." 
She  went  down  into  the  hall,  and  there,  between  two 
strange  young  men  in  evening  dress,  stood  her  son, 
hatless,  deathly  white,  very,  very  drunk. 

"  I'm  awfully  sorry,"  the  elder  of  the  two  youths 
said.  "  We  dined  together  and  then  went  on  to  Blake's 
to  a  dance,  and  we  had  some  champagne,  and  quite 
suddenly  he  went  to  pieces." 

Jimmy  looked  round  in  bemused  fashion. 
"  Where's  Pearl  ?  "  he  muttered.  "  I  want  to  see 
Pearl." 

Bruno,  who  stood  in  the  doorway,  came  forward. 
"  Signorina  Lili,"  he  said  gently,  "  don't  be  frightened. 
It's  all  right.  If  these  two  gentlemen  will  help  get  him 
upstairs  I  can  do  everything." 


YELLOWLEAF  287 

Lily  Aghassy  felt,  as  the  two  strange  men  half- 
carried  her  son  up  the  broad,  shallow  staircase,  that  she 
and  her  house  were  helplessly  and  eternally  disgraced. 
She  had  been  told  nothing  of  the  events  of  the  last  few 
days;  she  did  not  even  realize  whom  the  boy  meant 
by  "  Pearl " ;  but  she  had  been  miserably  unhappy  for 
a  long  time  now,  and  this  seemed  the  culminating 
point.  She  followed  the  three  upstairs  and  into  Jim's 
room ;  and  then  she  held  out  her  hand  to  the  elder  and 
thanked  him.  "  It's  very  kind  of  you  to  have  brought 
him  home,"  she  said ;  "  he's — he's  not  used  to  much 
wine,  and  I  suppose  a  little  goes  to  his  head." 

The  younger  stared  at  her.  "  A  little !  Well,  we 
thought  he  was  wonderful  to  carry  all  he  did  before  he 
collapsed." 

"  Shut  up,  Bertie !  "  said  the  other  one.  "  Come 
along,  the  others  are  waiting  for  us,"  and  with  awk- 
ward bows  they  followed  Bruno  downstairs.  Then 
Bruno  came  back,  and  gently  but  ruthlessly  shut  Mrs. 
Aghassy  out  of  the  room. 

"  You  need  not  be  so  horrified,  Signorina,"  he  said; 
"  with  respect  speaking,  it's  foolish  of  you  to  look  like 
that.  Why,  even  Captain  Jim  used  to  do  it  once  in  a 
while  when  he  was  Master  Jimmy's  age." 

Lily  looked  at  him,  her  little  face  very  white.  "  Oh, 
I  know  that;  but  you  don't  know,  he — he  lied  to  me. 
He  said  he  was  going  to  dine  with  Mr.  Aghassy  at 
the  club  and  go  to  a  play.  Oh ! "  She  gave  a  little 
cry.  Jacques  had  lied  to  her,  too.  Jacques  let  Jimmy 
go  out  with  these  vicious-looking,  unpleasant  young 
men.  She  went  slowly  back  to  her  room  in  misery  so 


288  YELLOWLEAF 

great  that  any  she  had  felt  in  all  her  life  before  seemed 
nothing  compared  to  it.  She  was  so  alone.  Jacques 
was  against  her ;  Lady  Mary  could  not  be  told  agitat- 
ing things;  and  Charles  even,  her  dear,  good,  faithful 
old  cousin,  was  going  away  the  next  day — going,  he 
had  told  her,  simply  because  it  would  amuse  him  to 
see  Morocco  again.  Feeling  truly  abandoned,  the  poor 
little  woman  shut  herself  into  her  bedroom  to  cry  as  if 
she  could  never  stop.  It  was  about  half  an  hour  later 
that,  coming  softly  out  of  Jimmy's  room  where  he  lay 
in  a  heavy  sleep,  she  came  face  to  face  with  Thorn  on 
his  way  upstairs. 

In  her  misery  she  broke  out  again,  crying  angrily : 
"  Oh,  Charles,  I  think  it's  dreadful  of  you  to  go  away 
and  leave  me  now  when  everything  is  so  horrible.  I've 
never  thought  you  were  selfish  before." 

Thorn  stood  still,  his  arms  folded,  looking  down  at 
her  with  an  impassive  face.  "  Don't  be  a  goose,  Lily," 
he  said  quietly.  "  You're  upset  about  Jimmy,  of 
course.  Bruno  has  told  me.  But  you  mustn't  exag- 
gerate  "  Then  he  broke  off  short,  for  his  alarm 

was  greater  than  hers  and  he  was  a  bad  liar. 

She  came  close  to  him,  and  got  hold  of  his  sleeve 
with  both  her  little  icy  hands.  "If  you  go  away 
Jimmy  will  die,"  she  said.  "  Jim,  my  big  Jim,  could 
not  stand  drink.  You  remember  how  Arthur  Hesketh 
wouldn't  let  him  touch  a  drop  of  anything  for  years 
before  he  died;  and  just  look  at  Jimmy.  A  breath  of 
wind  would  blow  him  away.  Mamma  is  dying,  and 
I've  nobody  in  the  world  but  you." 

Poor  Thorn  felt  something  very  like  the  bitterness 
of  death  as  he  loosened  her  fingers  and  drew  back 


YELLOWLEAF  289 

against  the  wall.  "  Things  will  be  better  when  I'm 
gone,"  he  said.  "  Aghassy  doesn't  like  me.  I — I  get 
on  his  nerves."  And  then  to  his  horror  she  burst  into 
violent  crying,  and  sat  covering  her  face  with  her 
hands  like  a  child,  and  shaking  from  head  to  foot. 

"  Lily,  don't !  You  mustn't  cry  like  that.  Aghassy 
will  be — sterner  with  Jimmy  when  I'm  gone.  He  won't 
give  him  his  own  way  so  much,  Perhaps  he  does  it 
partly  to  spite  nie." 

She  stopped  crying  and  looked  up  at  him,  a  dread- 
ful knowledge  in  her  face,  which  looked  almost  the  face 
of  an  old  woman. 

"  Charles,"  she  said  slowly.  "  I  hate  Jacques.  He 
has  ruined  all  my  life.  I  hate  him." 

Thorn  closed  his  eyes  and  leaned  his  head  against 
the  wall,  afraid  to  move,  afraid  to  speak,  his  self- 
control  was  nearly  at  an  end,  and  he  knew  it.  After  a 
minute  she  went  on,  speaking  with  a  queer  kind  of 
satisfaction  in  her  freedom  of  speech.  "  Before  he 
came,  think  how  happy  we  were,  just  the  children  and 
mamma  and  you  and  I.  I've  tried  not  to  hate  him. 
I  suppose  you  think  it  is  silly,  but  it  isn't ;  I  don't  know 
exactly  what  it  is,  but  he  ought  to  be  hated."  Then 
she  added :  "  Oh,  I  wish  he  would  die." 

Thorn  heard  her  walking  quickly  back  to  her  room 
and  closing  the  door,  and  then  he  went  quietly  down- 
stairs and  walked  to  the  end  of  the  passage,  listening 
at  Aghassy's  door. 

"  That  last  movement — the  Allegretto,"  he  heard 
Aghassy's  voice  saying,  "  is  very  good,  very  good  in- 
deed." And  then  the  voice  sang  over  a  bar  or  two  of 
the  merry  music.  Thorn  knew  from  Bruno  that  Miss 
19 


290  YELLOWLEAF 

Mareschal  had  not  come  in,  and  that  Aghassy  was  alone. 

He  smiled  grimly  as  he  listened  to  the  man  happily 
congratulating  himself  on  this  of  his  undertakings  as 
well. 

After  a  moment  he  turned  the  knob  softly  and 
went  in. 

IV 

Sir  Arthur  Hesketh  came  slowly  out  of  the  study 
about  half-past  ten  next  morning  and  crossed  the  draw- 
ing-room to  Lady  Mary's  Corner.  The  old  lady  was 
up,  in  her  chair.  Thorn  and  Lily  were  sitting  with 
her.  Hesketh  approached  them,  his  lower  lip  thrust 
out  thoughtfully,  and  he  stood  still  before  he  spoke. 

"  He  must  have  been  dead,"  he  said,  "  about  nine 
hours."  There  was  a  long  silence,  and  then  Charles 
Thorn  asked  quietly :  "  Have  you  decided  what  was 
the  cause  of  his  death?  " 

"  There's  no  doubt  about  that.  Apoplexy — a  clot 
He  was  bending  forward  over  his  work.  He  was  a 
very  thick-necked  man,  too."  He  shrugged  his 
shoulders.  "  It  happened  in  that  way." 

Suddenly  he  darted  forward  and  caught  Mrs. 
Aghassy  in  his  arms.  "  Look  out !  she's  fainting,"  he 
said  shortly.  "  Get  some  of  that  wine,  Charles." 

Thorn  ran  into  the  bedroom,  and  came  back  with 
some  wine  in  his  aunt's  neglected  tea-cup.  In  a  few 
moments  the  danger  was  past. 

"  You  will  let  me  tell  you,  my  dear/'  the  doctor  said, 
leaning  down,  and  kissing  the  little  widow,  "  how 
deeply  sorry  for  you  I  am.  Such  a  sudden  death  is 
always  very  dreadful  for  the  survivors,  but  you  must 
pin  your  mind  on  the  fact  that  it's  infinitely  the  easiest 
way  out  for  the  one  who  goes." 


YELLOWLEAF  291 

Lady  Mary  nodded.  "  Yes.  There  are  worse 
things  than  dying  suddenly,  Arthur." 

The  doctor  rose.  "  Thorn,  you  had  better  come 
with  me  and  I'll  tell  you  what  must  be  done." 

Thorn  started.  "  You  don't  mean  that  there  will 
have  to  be  an  inquest." 

"  No,  no !  I  must  make  out  my  certificate  and — 
well,  come  along.  Lady  Mary,  I  think  you  had  better 
take  some  food,  some  biscuits  and  a  glass  of  that  wine ; 
we  cannot  have  you  getting  ill ;  and  Lily,  you  will  have 
to  tell  Jim,  you  know." 

Lily  nodded  stonily.  "  Yes,  I  will  have  to  tell  Jim; 
he's  still  asleep." 

The  two  men  went  away  together,  and  the  two 
women  sat  for  a  while  hand-in-hand  without  speaking. 
At  last  the  younger  one  said :  "  Mamma,  I've  some- 
thing dreadful  to  tell  you.  I — I  think  it's  my  fault 
that  Jacques  is  dead." 

Lady  Mary  stared  at  her  in  almost  comic  surprise. 
"  Your  fault !  What  on  earth  do  you  mean  ?  " 

Lily  looked  up.  "  You  will  think  me  very  wicked, 
but  something  happened  last  night — I  won't  tell  you 
what — and  I — I  wished  he  would  die." 

"  Nonsense !  You  didn't  really  wish  it.  You  may 
have  said  so,  or  thought  so.  Everybody  thinks  or 
says  such  things  once  in  a  while;  you  mustn't  be 
hysterical." 

But  Lily  persisted.  "  I  did  mean  it.  I  meant  it  so 
much  that  I  said  it  to  Charles.  I — I  ill-wished  rny 
husband,"  she  continued  steadily,  "  and  he  is  dead." 

The  old  woman  drew  herself  up  in  her  chair. 


292  YELLOWLEAF 

"  Never  say  such  a  wicked  thing  again,  Lily  Dam- 
pierre,  "  she  said  sternly.  "  Jacques  is  dead.  God  rest 
his  soul !  and  for  just  this  once  I  must  tell  you  that  it's 
my  honest  belief  that  it's  the  best  thing  for  everyone 
that  it  has  happened.  Jimmy  is  now  safe." 

Lily  looked  at  her.  "  Yes,  that  was  what  I  meant 
last  night  about  Jim — but  think  of  poor  Jacques,  think 
of  it,  working  quite  happily  on  his  Symphony,  and 
dying  like  that  all  alone  in  the  middle  of  the  night." 

"  No  matter  how  many  people  are  with  us,  every- 
body always  dies  all  alone,  my  dear,"  the  old  lady 
returned  gently.  "  Now,  will  you  ring  ?  I  don't  want 
any  wine,  but  we  will  have  some  tea  while  Charles  is 
away,  and  then  you  must  go  and  tell  Jimmy." 

Bruno  brought  the  tea,  moving  about  with  down- 
cast eyes  and  a  deathly  white  face ;  and  when  Lily  had 
gone  upstairs  on  her  sad  errand  to  her  son,  the  old 
servant  looked  up  at  his  mistress,  and  stood  as  if  wait- 
ing for  her  to  speak. 

"  Bruno,"  she  said  presently,  "  how  do  you  feel 
about  Mr.  Aghassy's  death  ?  " 

The  old  man  hesitated.  "  I  am  praying,"  he  said, 
"  for  the  repose  of  his  poor  soul ;  as  for  the  rest, 
Domeniddio  knows  best." 

Lady  Mary  nodded.  "  Yes,  God  knows  best.  I 
think,"  she  added  after  a  moment,  "  that  some  time 
when  you  have  a  few  minutes'  leisure  you  had  better 
go  and  tell  that  poor  Mrs.  Cuthbertson." 

"Yes,  Your  Excellency,  I  will,"  and  he  left  her. 
And  the  old  woman,  all  alone  with  her  thoughts,  sat 
looking  over  her  idle  hands  into  the  fire  for  a  long 
time. 


CHAPTER  XXII 


ONE  day  about  the  middle  of  April,  in  the  year  of 
Jacques  Aghassy's  tragically  sudden  death,  Lady  Mary 
Dampierre  was  sitting  in  her  wheel-chair  in  the  glass 
gallery  finishing  the  last  corner  of  her  great  piece  of 
embroidery.  It  was  a  beautiful  bright  day,  and  on  the 
wide-spreading  lawn  through  the  windows  an  army  of 
little  crocuses  stood  boldly  facing  the  really  warm  sun. 

The  old  lady  as  she  worked,  more  slowly  than  in 
the  old  days,  glanced  up  now  and  again  with  pleased 
eyes,  and  gave  her  head  a  little  nod  as  she  saw  the 
pretty,  brave  little  harbingers.  "  Pretty  dears !  "  she 
said  aloud  to  herself,  a  new  habit  of  hers.  She  had 
grown  a  good  deal  older  in  the  last  three  months, 
although  her  eyes  were  as  lustrous  as  ever,  and  even  in 
the  warmth  of  the  gallery  her  famous  old  ermine  cloak 
hung  over  her  shoulders.  Presently  the  door  opened 
and  Mrs.  Aghassy  came  out,  all  in  white  but  for  a 
narrow  black  belt,  which  accentuated  the  smallness  of 
her  waist  and  made  her  look  very  young. 

"  They'll  be  here  in  a  minute,  darling,"  she  said, 
"  and  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  her." 

The  old  lady  nodded.  "  Full  of  airs  and  graces  the 
young  minx  will  be,  but  Jimmy  will  soon  knock  that 
out  of  her." 

The  younger  woman  nodded  in  turn.  "  Yes. 
Jimmy  and  Charles  between  them.  Poor  old  Picotee! 
She  won't  stand  a  chance." 

393 


294  YELLOWLEAF 

Lily  sat  down,  and  in  a  minute  went  on  in  a  differ- 
ent voice. 

"  Mamma,"  she  said,  "  I  wonder  if  poor  Jacques 
knows  how  I  feel  about  him  now." 

The  old  lady  drew  her  needle  through  the  canvas 
with  a  little  jerk.  "  There's  no  reason  why  he 
shouldn't,"  she  said,  "  although  so  far  as  I'm  concerned, 
my  dear,  I  could  not  swear  there  is  any  reason  why  he 
should." 

"  Because,"  the  little  widow  went  on,  "  I  can't  help 
being  happy,  and  it  seems  very  cruel,  and  I'm  sure  the 
greater  part  of  my  silly  terror  of  him  was  unreasonable. 
After  all,  he  certainly  did  love  Jimmy,  although — 
although "  her  voice  trailed  away  into  silence. 

The  old  woman  looked  up  at  her.  "  If  I  were  you," 
she  said,  "my  dear,  I  should  give  up  thinking  about 
those  terrors  of  yours.  They  were  justified,  no  doubt, 
to  a  certain  extent,  and/  personally,  I  don't  think 
Jacques  was  a  good  man ;  but  at  the  same  time  he  had 
his  good  points,  and  I  think  it  would  be  better  for  you 
to  weight  your  memory  to  those  good  points.  Re- 
member how  he  loved  to  give  you  little  gifts;  remember 
how  Jimmy  loved  him;  above  all,  my  dear,  remember 
how  divinely  he  played  the  piano.  No  matter  what 
he  did  or  what  he  tried  to  do,  there  must  have  been 
something,  if  only  a  little,  of  God  in  his  poor  soul." 

There  was  something  oddly  oracular  in  the  old 
lady's  way  of  speaking,  and  when  she  had  ceased  there 
was  a  long  pause.  Some  of  the  sliding  windows  farther 
down  the  gallery  were  open,  and  through  them  came  the 
sound  of  whistling — one  of  the  gardeners  was  in  a 


YELLOWLEAF  295 

merry  mood.  After  a  while  Lily  went  on,  laying  her 
hand  on  her  mother-in-law's  as  it  lay  on  the  taut 
canvas.  "  Mamma,"  she  said,  "  how  good  you  are,  and 
how  wise !  Ever  since  I  can  remember  you  have  helped 
me  and  strengthened  me,  and  always  when  I've  got  into 
a  silly  scrape  you  got  me  out.  Do  you  know,"  she 
added  gently,  "  I  even  used  to  think,  in  the  miserable 
days  when  poor,  darling  Jimmy  was  so  dreadful,  that 
if  I  told  you  more  clearly  how  I  felt  about  poor  Jacques 
you  would  not  have  let  me  marry  him." 

Lady  Mary's  face  was  very  serious  as  she  answered. 
"  Do  you  really  look  on  your  marriage  with  Jacques  as 
a  silly  scrape  ? "  she  asked ;  and  Aghassy's  widow 
bowed  her  head.  "  Yes,"  she  returned  in  the  same  tone 
of  extreme  gravity.  "Yes,  I  do.  It  was  the  worst 
mistake  I  ever  made  in  my  life." 

After  a  pause  she  went  on  more  quietly :  "  That's 
why  I  don't  feel  that  it  was  all  poor  Jacques's  fault. 
He  did  love  Jim,  and  I  was  an  hysterical  idiot  when  I 
thought — oh,  those  dreadful  things.  Charles  told  me 
I  was  a  fool,"  she  added  simply. 

"  Oh !  "  hooted  Lady  Mary  suddenly.  "  Charles,  of 
course,  is  a  most  excellent  judge  of  a  fool  He's  so 
wise  himself." 

Lily  flushed,  and  she  threw  up  her  little  chin  with 
an  angry  air.  "  I  don't  understand,  Mamma,"  she 
said,  "  how  you  can  be  so  perfectly  hateful  about  poor 
Charles.  I  think  all  of  you  are  perfectly  beastly  about 
him.  Bruno  watches  him  as  if  he  suspected  him  of 
having  committed  a  murder;  and  as  for  Drake — oh, 
how  I  do  dislike  that  woman,  Mamma!  I  do  wish 
you  would  get  rid  of  her." 


296  YELLOWLEAF 

Lady  Mary  laughed.  "  She'll  last  my  time,  my 
dear,"  she  said;  "  and  if  you  say  one  word  against  my 
Bruno,  our  paths  must  diverge  that  same  moment." 

The  clock  struck  at  that  moment.  Both  their  faces 
changed.  "  Half -past  twelve !  "  they  exclaimed  to- 
gether. "  Charles  said  they  wouldn't  be  later  than 
that" 

There  was  a  sound  of  the  closing  of  a  door,  and  of 
laughter  and  of  footsteps,  and  out  into  the  sunlight 
came  peacocking  a  tall,  broad-shouldered,  slim- 
waisted,  much  mannered  young  minx  in  dark  blue — 
Picotee  home  for  good. 

ii 

In  his  pantry,  the  next  morning,  Bruno  sang  softly 
to  himself  as  he  polished  his  silver.  He  was  happy 
because  Picotee  had  come  back;  because  his  old  mis- 
tress was  better,  although  so  old,  so  old ;  because,  on 
the  contrary,  she  was  growing  visibly  younger  every 
day ;  because  April  was  here. 

"  Di  doman  non  cie  certezza," 

he  carolled,  his  beautiful  pure  voice  pitched  at  a  tone 
of  the  respect  due  to  his  mistress's  house,  and  his  own 
dignity  as  a  trusted  friend  and  butler. 

"Of  to-morrow  no  one  is  sure " 

As  he  ended  on  a  high,  soft  note,  the  door  opened  and 
Drake  came  in. 

"  It's  'er  Ladyship's  time  for  her  cocoa,  Bruno," 
the  woman  said,  eyeing  him  in  an  odd  way. 

"  Yes,  Miss  Drake,  it  will  be  up  in  a  moment " 

and  he  eyed  her  in  an  odd  way.  An  observer  would 


YELLOWLEAF  297 

have  been  struck  by  the  way  these  two  old  servants 
behaved  when  they  were  alone  together.  It  was  not 
so  much  that  they  were  unfriendly  as  that  they  were 
wary,  on  their  guard.  Each  might  have  been  hiding  a 
secret  from  the  other,  and  yet  at  certain  moments  there 
seemed  to  be  a  tacit  complicity  between  them. 

Real  friends  as  old  servants,  who  for  years  have 
served  the  same  masters,  often  grow  to  be,  they  were 
not!  Drake,  as  a  quite  uneducated  Englishwoman, 
naturally  despised  the  courteous  gentle  old  man,  who 
loved  good  music  and  good  pictures,  and  knew  far 
more  about  the  history  of  her  own  country,  even,  than 
she  did.  For  Bruno  was  an  "  Eyetalian !  " 

And  Bruno,  on  his  side,  had  always  been  afflicted  by 
the  grim  handmaiden's  lack  of  beauty  and  femininity ; 
and  above  all,  the  gross  impurity  of  her  vowels  had 
always  given  real  pain  to  his  sensitive  ear. 

So  if  they  now,  in  their  old  age,  were  drawn  to- 
gether in  a  singular  way,  it  was  not  by  sympathy. 

"  'Ow  d'you  think  Miss  Pickety  is  looking?"  the 
woman  asked  as  she  waited  for  the  cocoa. 

"  The  Signorina  Picotee  is  as  lovely  as  a  young 
angel,"  he  answered,  breathing  on  the  handle  of  a  fork, 
and  rubbing  it  vigorously  with  his  strong  thumb  in  the 
way  beloved  of  butlers.  "  Chepezzo !  " 

Drake's  face  softened.  "  Well,  I  wouldn't  care  to 
go  that  far,  Mr.  Bruno,"  she  said ;  "  there  wasn't  never 
much  of  the  angel  about  Miss  Pickety ;  but  she  is  look- 
ing beautiful.  'Er  Ladyship  as  pleased  as  a  carrot 
half  scraped  to  have  her  back " 

"  Yes,  and  Mrs.  Aghassy !  " 


298  YELLOWLEAF 

With  a  self-important  rumble  the  lift  arrived  at 
that  moment  with  the  cocoa,  and  the  old  man  set  it  on 
the  waiting  tray. 

Then  he  handed  the  tray  to  his  companion,  saying 
as  he  did  so :  "  It  is  good  to  have  them  all  laughing 
about  the  house,  isn't  it?  The  Signor  Lord  looks 
quite  different.  They  came  down  early  this  morning 
as  they  used  to,  to  '  kill  the  worm,'  and  His  Lordship 
made  coffee,  and  they  were  all  as  merry  as  birds " 

He  eyed  her  closely  as  he  spoke,  and  her  cold  eyes 
gazed  back  steadily  at  him, 

"  Poor  Master  would  have  been  glad,  too,"  she 
returned  slowly,  "  if — if  that  hadn't  'appened." 

"  Yes.  You  mean  if  he  had  not  died.  God  rest  his 
soul "  Bruno  crossed  himself. 

"  Just  so.  Well,  I'll  be  going."  She  moved  slowly 
away  and  for  a  minute  the  old  man  stood  deep  in 
thought. 

Just  before  he  sounded  the  luncheon  gong  he  went 
up  to  Thorn's  room,  and,  being  told  to  come  in,  opened 
the  door  quietly  and  stood  on  the  threshold. 

Thorn,  who  was  writing,  looked  up.  "  Hullo, 
Bruno,"  he  cried  kindly.  "  What's  wrong  with  you?  " 

"  Nothing,  My  Lord.  I — I  just  thought  that  per- 
haps you  might  allow  me — con  rispetto  parlando — ask 
Your  Lordship  a  question " 

It  struck  Thorn  that  the  old  fellow  looked  very  old, 
almost  broken,  as  the  clear  spring  light  fell  on  his 
face,  and  so  bade  him  sit  down.  But  Bruno,  with  a 
little  gesture,  remained  standing.  After  a  moment  he 


YELLOWLEAF  299 

broke  out,  in  a  voice  that  trembled  a  little :  "  Signer 
Carlo — when  are  you  going  away  ?  " 

"When  am  I  going?  I  don't  know.  Her  Lady- 
ship and — the  children  don't  want  me  to  go.  You 
know  we  shall  all  be  at  Oving-Wellow  for  the 
summer " 

"  But — I  thought  Your  Lordship  intended  to  go  to 
Paris " 

"  My  Lordship  intended  to  go  to  Norway  for  the 
summer,"  Thorn  returned  good-humouredly ;  "  but,  as 
I  say,  Her  Ladyship  wants  me  to  stay " 

Suddenly  Bruno  went  to  the  window,  and,  leaning 
his  forehead  against  the  glass,  burst  out  in  Italian. 
"  Oh,  Signer  Carlo,  Signor  mio  piccolo  Carletto,  go — 
go — for  God's  sake  go !  " 

There  was  a  long  pause,  and  then  Thorn  answered 
quietly :  "  Bruno,  what  is  the  matter  ?  For  a  long 
time  I  have  known  that  you  were — troubled,  and — I — 

I  have  felt  that  something  was  in  the  air Tell  me 

what  it  is." 

Bruno  turned  his  face,  very  white,  the  lines  in  it 
looking  as  if  they  had  just  been  drawn  in  charcoal. 
"  Your  Lordship,"  he  said  gravely,  "  I  beg  you  not  to 
ask  me.)  I  know  the  respect  I  owe  you,  and  with — 
respect  speaking — I  love  you " 

Thorn's  face  was  as  white  as  Bruno's,  and  full  of 
something  very  like  fear;  but  his  voice  was  steady. 
"  Have  you  heard  a  story  that  is  being  hinted,  that — 
that  poor  Mr.  Aghassy's  death — was  not  natural  ?  " 

Bruno  gazed  at  him  in  miserable  silence,  and  after 
a  moment  bowed  his  head. 


300  YELLOWLEAF 

There  was  a  pause,  and  then  Thorn  rose.  "  And 
hearing  this  rumour,  you  think  that — that  I  had  better 
leave  England." 

Bruno  bowed  his  head  and  stood  there,  his  chin 
touching  his  faithful  old  breast,  without  speaking. 

It  seemed  to  him  very  long  before  Thorn's  voice 
broke  the  silence  by  saying  quietly :  "  Perhaps  you  are 
right,  old  friend.  Now  tell  me  just  how  far  this — 
this  talk  has  gone " 

The  talk,  it  seemed,  was  very  vague  as  yet.  Drake 
had  evidently  heard  it;  and  cook  had,  plainly,  some- 
thing in  her  mind.  "  And  then,  the  other  day,"  Bruno 
went  on  painfully,  "  friend  of  mine,  a  pastry-cook  told 
me  that  he  had  heard  it " 

Thorn  nodded.  "Well,  Bruno,  I'll  think  it  over; 
it — it  may  be  better  for  me  to  go,  and  I  thank  you  for 

telling  me  all  this.  You  ever-good  friend ."  He 

held  out  his  hand,  but  the  old  man  seemed  not  to  see 
it,  and  Thorn  went  on :  "I  will  not  pretend  to  think, 
even  to  you,  that  the  world  is  not  a  better  place  with- 
out that  monster " 

"  Yes,  My  Lord,  he  was  a  monster,  God  rest  his 

soul "  As  the  old  man  reached  the  door,  Thorn 

called  him  sharply :  "  Bruno !  " 

"My  Lord?" 

"You — you  don't  think  Lady  Mary  knows  any- 
thing of  this — suspicion  ?  " 

"  Oh  no,  the  Madonna  forbid  that! " 

"  Yes.  She  must  have  an  idea.  I — as  you  know, 
she  is  used  to  the  idea  that  I  wished  to  leave  for  a 
while — she  will  not  be  surprised  if  I  do  go I'm 


YELLOWLEAF  301 

not  yet  quite  sure  that  it  will  be  wise  to  do  so — it 
looks — as  if  I  had  something  to  hide,  you  know." 

"  I  think  it  would  be  better.  Oh,  Signer  Carlo,  you 
must,  you  must ! " 

As  he  spoke  Jimmy  came  racing  up  the  stairs,  bel- 
lowing in  dissonance  a  popular  air.  "  Hullo,  Bruno," 
he  cried,  on  looking  into  the  room,  "  you're  here ,  are 
you !  Where's  lunch,  you  old  villain !  " 

Bruno  went  down  and  the  boy  and  Charles  fol- 
lowed him,  Jim  hanging  to  Thorn's  arm  in  his  old  way. 

His  stepfather's  sudden  death  had  been  a  terrible 
shock  to  the  delicate  youth,  and  for  a  fortnight  he  had 
been  ill  in  bed  with  its  effects;  but  his  mother's  devoted 
nursing,  his  thorough  rest,  and  the  natural  healing  of 
his  years  had  pulled  him  round,  and  he  was  now  far 
on  the  way  to  complete  recovery. 

Miss  Pearl  Mareschal  had  disappeared  the  day  of 
Aghassy's  death,  and  never  been  heard  of  since,  and 
young  Jim  was  shrewd  enough  to  realize  that  this  dis- 
appearance was  a  confession  of  some  kind  of  guilt, 
though  he  had  never  connected  it  with  Aghassy. 

The  woman  had  stirred  him,  but  the  moment  she 
was  gone,  and  his  young  nature  no  longer  subjected 
to  her  forcing  power,  it  naturally  went  back  to  its 
former  conditions  of  normal  growth. 

"  We  shall  soon  have  the  pleasure,"  Lady  Mary 
assured  his  mother  one  day,  "  of  beholding  our  young 
man  in  love  with  some  mature  and  respectable  beauty 
of  our  own  world.  Helen  Blois  would  do  admirably, 
she's  forty,  or  Adelaide  Morton " 

Meantime  Lily  Aghassy  was  as  happy  as  the  day 


302  YELLOWLEAF 

was  long.  She  had  her  own  Jimmy  back,  and  he  was 
a  lamb  in  the  matter  of  tonics  and  milk;  he  was  bliss- 
fully painting  some  very  remarkable  pictures  that  re- 
quired translation,  so  abstruse  and  modern  were  they ; 
Lady  Mary  was  better  and  full  of  a  kind  of  high 
serenity — God  was  indeed  in  his  heaven! 

That  afternoon  Thorn  got  Jim  and  Picotee  off  to 
a  matinee,  and  then  went  to  see  Lady  Mary.  She 
was  still  sitting  in  the  glass  gallery  working  at  her 
metier,  and  looked  up  at  him  with  a  smile. 

"  Well,  Charles,"  she  said,  "  so  I  was  right  and  you 
do  want  to  have  a  talk  with  me !  " 

"  How  did  you  know  ?  " 

"  Am  I  not  a  very  intelligent  old  woman,  my  dear  ? 
And  besides,"  she  added  more  gravely,  "  your  thought 
was  father  to  my  wish.  I  want  to  have  a  talk  with  you." 

He  sat  down,  and  for  a  moment  watched  her  needle 
as  it  crept  delicately  about  a  big  golden  geometrical 
figure  on  her  canvas.  Then  he  said,  looking  out  across 
the  sunshiny  lawn :  "  Well,  Aunt  Mary?  " 

She  went  on  working,  but  answered  at  once :  "  Are 
you — are  you  going  to  Norway,  Lord  Drax?  " 

"  That's  just  the  point.  I — I  should  very  much  like 
to  go " 

"  That  is  a  lie.  You  don't  want  to  go ;  you  are  more 
nearly  happy  just  now  than  you  ever  have  been  in 
yowr  poor  disappointed  life.  But — for  some  reason 
you  are  beginning,  quite  lately,  to  think  you  ought 
to  go!" 

His  face  changed,  paling  suddenly.     "  You  persist 


YELLOWLEAF  303 

in  ignoring  the  charms  of  trout  fishing  in  Norway,  my 
dear  old  woman,"  he  murmured. 

"  And  you  want  to  believe  to  ignore  the  charms  of 
domesticity  at  Oving-Wellow.  No,  no,  my  dear,  it 
won't  do,  and  I'm  going  to  worm  your  real  reason  out 
of  you — or  Bruno — or  die  in  the  attempt !  " 

Thorn  started,  as  if  she  had,  by  naming  Bruno,  sent 
a  bullet  into  him. 

"  Bruno  is — growing  very  old,"  he  said  hastily,  "  he 
is  beginning,  as  he  himself  would  say  of  anyone  else, 
to  have  crickets  in  his  head." 

"  This  isn't  a  cricket !  Listen,  Charles,  I  am  very 
old  and  pretty  well  done  for,  as  you  know.  During 
the  last  years  I  have  been  much  more  unhappy  than 
you  knew,  and  now  I  am  happy.  Don't  you  think  you 
might  stand  by  until  I'm  out  of  the  way?  I — I  love 
you,  you  know " 

His  voice  shook,  and  something  in  her  whole  aspect 
smote  him  to  the  heart. 

Leaning  towards  her,  he  took  her  little  thin  hand 
and  kissed  it.  "  Dear  Aunt  Mary,"  he  murmured. 
"  I  love  you,  too — I  can't  express  myself  well,  as  you 
know ;  but " 

Then  she  looked  at  him,  and  he  saw  that  her  lustrous 
old  eyes  were  brimming.  His  suffering  at  that 
moment  was  intense. 

"  Of  course,"  she  went  on,  "  I  know  why  you  want 
to  go  and  hermitize  again.  I  know  why,  and  I  tell 
you  you  are  being  a  perfect  fool  about  it." 

Thorn  stared.    "  You  know —  I  mean " 

"Of  course,  I  do!     Why,  even  Picotee  knows! 


304  YELLOWLEAP 

Lily  is  the  only  one  who  doesn't  And  I  suppose  you 
are  planning  a  dreadful  year  of  perfectly  unnecessary 
suffering  for  yourself,  to  say  nothing  of  me,  all  because 
of  this  idiotic  conventionality  of  yours !  " 

He  had  risen  as  she  spoke,  and  now  stood  at  the 
top  of  the  steps  looking  down  to  the  lawn. 

In  the  sunlight  the  little  fountain's  waters  glittered 
gaily,  and  he  thought  of  the  still  moonlight  night  when 
Lily  had  come  to  him  with  Aghassy's  cablegram. 

"  She  is  as  puzzled  and  hurt  as  I  am,  what's  more," 
the  old  woman  went  on,  "  and  Jimmy  is  disgusted.  I 
tell  you,  Charles,  you  mustn't  go !  " 

He  turned,  driven  to  bay  at  last.  "  Aunt  Mary," 
he  contradicted  her  earnestly,  "  I  must." 

"  Then  I  swear  that  if  you  do,  I'll  tell  her!  " 

"  Great  God ! — you  couldn't !  "  he  almost  screamed, 
and  her  amazement  was  so  great  that  she  dropped  her 
needle. 

"  My  dear  boy,  what  on  earth  is  wrong  with  your 
nerves!  I  will,  though — I'll  tell  her  the  plain  truth; 
and  I  can  assure  you  a  woman  is  never  pleased  by  too 
great  delicacy  in  the  men  who  love  them !  " 

The  calm  came  back  to  his  face  and  he  gave  a  little 
laugh.  "  Lily  knows  I  love  her,"  he  said  simply. 
"  She's  known  a  long  time  now " 

Lady  Mary  flushed  with  indignation.  "  The  little 
beggar!  The  little  hussy,  never  to  tell  me!  Well 
then,  if  she  knows,  there's  no  earthly  reason  for  your 
running  away  from  her !  " 

Thorn  looked  down  at  the  oiled  brick  floor.  "  I'd 
enjoy  some  fishing "  he  murmured. 


YELLOWLEAF  305 

As  he  made  the  feeble  rejoinder  Bruno  appeared 
with  a  card  on  a  tray. 

Lady  Mary  looked  at  the  card.  "  Never  heard  of 
the  woman,"  she  said.  "  Who  is  she?  " 

Bruno  shot  a  look  at  Thorn.  "  She — she  used  to 
be  Mrs.  Cussberson,  Your  Excellency " 

Thorn  started.    "  That — that  poor  soul Don't 

see  her,  Aunt  Mary.     I — I  want  to  talk  to  you " 

Lady  Mary  looked  at  them  both  very  sharply. 

"  Ask  Mrs. — Mrs.  Piper — to  come  out  here,"  she 
said  to  the  butler. 

Mrs.  Wolf  Piper,  a  very  prosperous-looking  lady  in 
smart  clothes,  spoilt  by  a  white  ostrich- feather  boa, 
was,  like  many  people,  much  less  attractive  and  sympa- 
thetic in  the  full  blast  of  success  than  she  was  in  her 
darker  days. 

However,  she  had  a  real  blush  for  Thorn,  and 
thanked  Lady  Mary  warmly  for  having  invited  her 
to  the  funeral. 

"  I  took  it  very  kindly  of  Your  Ladyship,"  she  said ; 
"I  was  glad  to  come — poor  Jacks!  I'd  have  called 
before,  only  I've  been  away."  After  a  moment  she 
added,  her  accent  contrasting  oddly  to  her  really  fine 
face :  "  As  a  matter  of  fact,  we've  been  away  on  our 
honeymoon,  Mr.  Piper  and  me !  " 

"  I  trust  Mr.  Piper  is  as  well  as  you  look,"  put  in 
Thorn.  "  Remember  me  to  him,  will  you,  Mrs. 
Piper?" 

"  I  will  indeed,  Lord  Drax.    And — I  wonder  now 
if  you'd  mind  me  having  a  little  chat  alone  with  Lady 
Mary?" 
20 


306  YELLOWLEAF 

Thorn  was  nonplussed  and  distressed.  "  My  Aunt 
is  not  very  strong,  you  know,"  he  faltered,  but  Lady 
Mary  of  course  cut  him  short,  and  bade  him  be  off. 

"  Mrs.  Piper  and  I  are  old  acquaintances,"  she  said 
pleasantly;  "you  needn't  fear  her  upsetting  me " 

When  he  had  gone  Mrs.  Piper's  manner  changed, 
and  her  face  became  grave.  "  I — I've  heard  the  hate- 
ful stories  that  are  going  about,"  she  said,  "  Wolf  and 
I  have.  And  of  course  we  don't  believe  them,  but  even 
if  we  did " 

"  May  I  ask  what  stories  you  mean?  "  Lady  Mary 
glanced  at  her  kindly  over  her  big  spectacles,  and  then 
carefully  selected  a  shade  of  silk. 

"  Why — why,  don't  you  know?  "  Mrs.  Piper  asked 
in  visible  confusion.  "  I  thought  you  must  know " 

"  I  haven't  an  idea,  so  suppose  you  tell  me." 

But  Mrs.  Piper  did  not  wish  to  tell;  she  had 
assumed  that  Lady  Mary  must  have  heard  the  silly 
talk,  though  of  course  Wolf  and  she  hadn't  believed 
it,  and  he  thought  the  book  ought  to  be  given  to  Her 
Ladyship — "  The  book  proving  so  clearly,  Wolf  says, 
that  if  he  did  do  it,  it  couldn't  h'brought  in  more  than 
justi — justifiable " 

She  broke  off  suddenly  in  great  alarm,  for  her 
hearer's  face  had  turned  a  dreadful  greyish  white,  and 
she  was  leaning  back  gasping  for  breath. 

"  Oh,  My  Lady,  whatever  have  I  done !  I'll  go 

and  call  that  old  man "  The  poor,  big,  helpless 

thing  fluttered  heavily  towards  the  door,  when  Lady 
Mary's  voice  arrested  her. 

"  Sit  down.    And — go  on." 


YELLOWLEAF  307 

Mrs.  Wolf  Piper  obeyed,  and  Lady  Mary  Dam- 
pierre  heard  for  the  first  time  that  there  was  a  growing 
suspicion  that  Jacques  Aghassy's  death  had  not  been 
a  natural  one,  and  that  Charles  Thorn  was  vaguely, 
but  with  growing  conviction,  suspected  of  having 
murdered  him. 

The  blow  was  a  frightful  one,  but  the  brave  old 
woman  rallied  after  a  moment  and  took  up  her 
needle. 

"  I  don't  suppose  any  responsible  person  would 
believe  such  rubbish,"  she  said  at  length.  "  Sir  Arthur 
Hesketh  never  hesitated  for  a  second  as  to  the  cause 
of  death " 

"  That's  what  Wolf  always  says;  but — there  was  a 
piece  in  John  Bull  about  it  last  week,  and — and  we — 
I  thought  I'd  bring  you  the  book !  Oh,"  she  went  on, 
in  answer  to  a  look  of  inquiry  from  the  old  lady,  "  it's 
a  kind  of  diary  he  used  to  keep.  He  always  wrote  all 
his  plans  down — even  his  worst  ones — sometimes." 
She  shuddered.  "  He  used  to  read  bits  to  me.  Some- 
times, I  don't  believe  he  was  really  sane,  Lady  Mary. 
Something  too  inhuman  about  him,  there  was!  Well, 
I  found  the  book  the  other  day  among  his  papers  and 
so  on,  and — and — here  it  is.  There's  a  lot  in  it  about 
— about  young  Mr.  Dampierre " 

From  her  bag  she  took  a  small,  green  leather  note- 
book, stamped  all  over  with  golden  bees,  and  locked 
with  a  little  gilt  key. 

"  It — it's  an  awful  book,"  Mrs.  Piper  said,  as  she 
handed  it  to  Lady  Mary.  "  You  won't  let  anyone  else 
see  it,  except  Lord  Drax,  will  you?  " 


308  YELLOWLEAF 

Lady  Mary  put  the  book  in  her  velvet  bag.  "  You 
must  trust  me  to  use  it  as  I  think  best,"  she  answered 
quietly.  "  I  thank  you  very  much  for  it,  and  will  send 
it  back  to  you  by  Bruno." 

Mrs.  Piper  shuddered.  "  Oh  no !  "  she  protested 
nervously.  "  I  don't  want  ever  to  see  the  thing  again, 
and  no  more  does  Mr.  Piper!  We  want  to  forget  all 
about  Jacks.  He's  adopting  Theodore,  and  he's  to  be 
called  Piper.  It's  better,  don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

When  she  was  gone  Lady  Mary  rang  for  Charles. 
His  blanched  face  moved  her  to  indignant  sympathy. 
"  Poor  little  woman !  "  she  exclaimed  adroitly.  "  She's 
been  consulting  me  about  Mr.  Wolf  Piper — what  a 
name! — adopting  the  child.  Theodore  is  becoming 
a  Piper  himself.  I  advised  her  to  do  so  by  all 
means " 

Thorn  heaved  a  deep  sigh,  and  a  little  while  later 
went  and  told  Bruno  that  it  was  all  right.  "  She 
hasn't  mentioned — that"  he  said ;  "  it  was  only  about 
the  child." 

"  Thank  God!  Mr.  Charles,  if  there's  going  to  be 
trouble  for  you " 

"  Which  there  is,"  Charles  said  quietly. 

"  I'm  afraid  so,  My  Lord.  Well,  if  there  is: — I 
almost  wish  it  would  please  the  good  God  to  take  her 

away  first " 

in 

Two  days  later  Mrs.  Aghassy  and  her  children,  by 
Lady  Mary's  request,  went  down  to  Oving-Wellow  to 
get  things  ready  for  the  summer.  And  Thorn,  who 
was  going  to  the  Continent  shortly,  was  to  take  the 


YELLOWLEAF  309 

old  lady  and  Drake  and  Bruno  down  the  following 
afternoon. 

Lady  Mary  kissed  the  children  good-bye,  and  em- 
braced her  daughter-in-law  very  tenderly. 

"  Dearest  Lily,"  she  said,  "  you  look  so  happy!  " 

"  I  am  happy,  Mamma.  Only  I  wish  Charles  would 
give  up  Norway — it  is  tiresome  of  him  to  go  away 

this  first  summer "  She  broke  off  with  a  blush, 

aghast  at  her  stupid  speech.  Lady  Mary  laughed. 

"  He  hasn't  gone  yet,"  she  cried  gaily,  "  and  some- 
how I  don't  think  he  will  go— if  you  ask  him  very 
prettily  to  stay !  " 

Again  Lily  blushed,  and  the  astute  Picotee  burst 
out  laughing.  "Oh,  Jinks,"  the  girl  cried,  pointing 
at  her  mother,  "just  look  at  her!  Imagine  blushing 
like  that  about  old  Charles!  " 

Lily  tossed  her  head,  saying :  "  Be  quiet,  Picotee ; 
how  ridiculous  you  are !  And  besides " 

So  they  went  off  all  gay  and  cheery,  and  Lady  Mary 
told  Drake  that  she  was  really  glad  to  be  alone  for  a 
bit.  "  I'm  a  very  tired  old  lady,  Drake,"  she  explained. 

Drake,  whose  manner  the  last  day  or  two  had  been 
one  of  badly  repressed  excitement,  looked  at  her  old 
mistress  with  unusual  gentleness. 

"  My  Lady,"  she  asked  suddenly,  "  excuse  me,  but 
there's  a  lot  of  talk  in  the  servants'  'all  about  'Is  Lord- 
ship and — and  Mrs.  Aghassy.  I — I  never  was  one  to 
take  liberties,  but — oh,  My  Lady,  Mrs,  Aghassy 
wouldn't  marry  'Is  Lordship,  would  she?  " 

Drake  afterwards  said  that  when  she  had  asked  her 
question  she  was  so  frightened  that  she  nearly  dropped 


3io  YELLOWLEAF 

down  dead.  "  Fancy  me  having  the  cheek  to  ask  Her 
Ladyship  such  a  question !  I  thought  she  was  going  to 
skin  me  alive,  but  she  didn't,  and  somehow  that  scared 
me  more  than  if  she  'ad;  there  was  something  quite 
'orrid  and  frightening  in  the  way  she  looked  at  me, 
quite  gentle  and  kind.  '  Drake,'  she  says,  '  you've  got 
a  bee  in  your  bonnet,  you  silly  old  fool,'  she  says,  '  and 
you  must  get  it  out.  If  Mrs.  Aghassy  could  see  her 
way  to  marry  His  Lordship — though  it's  no  business 
of  yours  or  mine — my  dear ' — mind  yer,  I've  lived 
with  Her  Ladyship  for  over  twenty  years,  and  it  is 
the  first  time  she  ever  called  me  '  my  dear  ' — '  it  would 
be  a  jolly  good  thing,  it'd  be  a  fine  thing,'  she  says; 
then  after  a  minute,  she  says  to  me :  '  Drake,  do  you 
know  that  it  is  a  great  sin  to  accuse  people  of  things, 
even  in  your  own  mind,  when  you're  not  perfectly 

sure?'" 

****** 

Lady  Mary  and  Charles  Thorn  dined  together  that 
night,  and  thoroughly  enjoyed  each  other's  company. 
There  was  at  the  back  of  both  their  minds  the  most 
dreadful  thought  that  can  be  in  the  human  brain,  and 
the  outlook  seemed  pretty  hopeless,  but  old  Bruno,  as 
he  padded  softly  about,  serving  them,  watching  the 
two  people  he  so  deeply  loved,  noticed  with  joy  that 
they  had  put  care  and  worry  aside  for  a  while,  and 
were  having  a  rest  Lady  Mary  once  in  a  while  spoke 
of  the  others  down  at  Oving-Wellow,  and  Bruno 
gathered,  on  coming  into  the  room  rather  suddenly 
once,  that  the  old  lady  had  been  chaffing  the  grim- 
faced  man  with  the  sorrowful  eyes  in  a  way  that  made 


YELLOWLEAF  311 

him  a  little  happier.  It  was  a  very  pleasant  evening; 
a  big  bunch  of  violets  in  a  glass  bowl  on  the  table  had 
been  sent  up  from  Drax,  and  Charles  talked  lovingly 
about  his  little  grey  castle  down  in  Sussex.  "  You 
ought  to  drive  over  there  one  day  in  the  car,"  the  old 
lady  said  to  him,  "and  take  Lily  and  the  children; 
they  haven't  been  there  for  years " 

Thorn  didn't  answer  this,  and  Bruno,  alone  in  his 
pantry,  nodded  to  himself  over  the  omission!  "  He's 
made  them  all  happy,"  the  old  fellow  thought  sorrow- 
fully, "  and  now  he's  got  to  go  away  and  leave  them." 
There  is  no  doubt  at  all  that  Bruno  was  by  far  the  least 
happy  of  the  three  friends  in  the  Yellowleaf  dining- 
room  that  night.  Lady  Mary  declared  that  she  was 
in  a  wicked  mood  and  wanted  some  champagne,  and 
Bruno  without  a  word  opened  the  bottle  in  the  pantry, 
and  brought  it,  boiling  over  the  edge. 

Lady  Mary  and  Charles  made  no  remark  about  this, 
but  each  of  them  remembered  that  Aghassy  had  always 
opened  champagne  himself  at  the  table,  and  they  knew 
why  the  old  butler  had  drawn  the  cork  in  the  pantry. 

"  Aunt  Mary,"  Thorn  said,  holding  up  his  glass, 
"  my  dearest  love  and  gratitude  to  you  for  all  your 
kindness  to  me,  all  through  my  life.  I'm  a  dull  dog, 
but  God  knows  my  life  would  have  been  much  lonelier 
and  sadder  but  for  your  affection  and — sympathy." 

Lady  Mary  looked  at  him,  her  eyes  glowing  like 
lamps.  "  And  my  love  to  you.  Prophesying  is  a  bad 
job,  but  I  feel  pretty  sure  that  your  worst  times  are 
over.  I  know  a  few  things  I  might  tell  you,  if  I  wanted 
to — but  I'm  not  going  to,  because  there  are  certain 


312  YELLOWLEAF 

things  every  man  ought  to  have  the  brain  to  see  for 
himself.  You  know  yourself  what  sad,  weary  work 
waiting  is,  so — don't  keep  other  people  waiting  too 
long." 

Bruno  felt,  as  he  watched  Thorn's  face,  that  the 
pantry  was  the  only  place  for  an  emotional  old  fool 
like  him,  and  he  hurried  away,  not  daring  to  let  his 
face  be  seen.  After  dinner  Lady  Mary  settled  herself 
in  her  Corner,  and  had  her  embroidery- frame  put  in  its 
place  before  her. 

"  Hullo !  "  Thorn  exclaimed,  looking  down  at  it,  as 
he  stood  smoking,  "  you've  almost  finished !  " 

She  nodded.  "  Yes,  Charles,  I've  almost  finished." 
After  a  minute  she  added :  "  Half  an  hour's  work  will 
do  it  I  want  to  get  it  done  to-night." 

"  Oh,  you  don't  want  to  take  it  with  you?  " 

Lady  Mary  gave  him  a  queer  little  glance.  "  Oh 
dear,  no.  What  would  be  the  use  of  it  there  ?  " 

"  I  shall  miss  it,  though,  Aunt  Mary,"  he  said 
thoughtfully.  "  I've  always  loved  to  see  you  embroid- 
ering. What's  it  going  to  be,  by  the  way  ?  " 

"  It's  going  to  be,"  she  answered,  her  eyes  dancing 
with  delighted  mischief,  "  a  wedding-present ;  and  wild 
horses  won't  drag  out  of  me  for  whom,  so  there's  no 
use  your  asking  me." 

Thorn  rose,  and  walked  up  and  down.  "  How  very 
still  it  seems !  "  he  said.  "  I'm  sure  this  is  the  quietest 
house  in  London." 

"  Yes.    It  is  very  quiet.    I  shall  miss  it." 

"  But  you  love  Oving-Wellow,  don't  you  ?  And 
besides,  you'll  be  back  here  soon " 


YELLOWLEAF  313 

She  nodded.  "  Yes,  I  don't  mean  to  stay  away 
long.  And  now  I  know  you  want  to  go  and  hear  the 
last  of  Boris.  I'll  embroider  for  a  little  while,  and 
then,  like  the  good  little  girl  in  the  rhyme,  finish  my 
work,  fold  it  tight,  and  say,  '  dear  work,  good-night, 
good-night.' ' 

Thorn  kissed  her,  for  he  loved  her  very  much  that 
evening.  He  loved  her  bravery,  her  strength,  her  high- 
heartedness.  "  Remember,"  he  said  at  the  door,  "  you 
must  be  ready  to  go  at  eleven." 

She  assured  him  that  she  had  not  forgotten,  and  he 
left  her.  He  was  very  fond  of  the  Russian  Opera,  and 
Schaliapin  was  at  his  most  stupendous  that  night;  but 
it  was  with  a  very  divided  mind  that  Thorn  sat  in  his 
stall,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  stage.  Once  somebody  in 
the  row  behind  him  leaned  forward  and  touched  him 
on  the  shoulder,  and  he  started  so  violently  that  the 
man,  with  a  laugh,  cried :  "  My  dear  Drax,  you  jumped 
as  if  you  thought  you  were  being  arrested!  " 

Thorn's  face  went  perfectly  white,  and  the  other 
man,  who  knew  and  dreaded  his  terrible  temper,  hastily 
apologized  and  let  him  alone  for  the  rest  of  the  even- 
ing. It  was  a  fine  night,  and  Thorn  walked  all  the  way 
home  to  St.  John's  Wood. 

As  he  opened  the  garden  gate  with  his  key,  a  small 
dark  figure  stumbled  and  wavered  towards  him  in  the 
gloom.  It  was  Bruno,  and  at  the  sight  of  him  Thorn 
stood  still. 

"  Fool  that  I  am,"  he  said,  "  to  have  left  her !  Stie 
is  dead." 

And  Bruno  burst  out  crying,  the  wild,  dry,  rending 


3H  YELLOWLEAF 

sobs  of  old  age.  Thorn  held  him  in  his  arms  as  if  he 
had  been  a  child,  and  together  they  staggered  up  the 
path  to  the  house.  The  door  was  open,  and  Thorn 
noticed  that  the  garden  door,  too,  at  the  end  of  the  long 
passage,  was  wide.  Without  a  word  he  went  into  the 
drawing-room,  and  walked  quietly  down  and  round 
the  corner. 

Lady  Mary  was  sitting  there:  her  hands,  the 
thimble  still  on  her  ringer,  folded  on  the  embroidery- 
frame;  the  needle,  still  containing  a  scrap  of  blue  silk, 
sticking  up  where  she  had  taken  the  last  stitch.  Her 
work  was  complete,  and  she  was  dead. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

WEEKS  later  a  cab  drove  up  to  the  pleasant  old  door 
of  Oving-Wellow,  and  a  very,  very  old  man,  accom- 
panied by  a  cheerful- faced  trained  nurse,  got  out  and 
went  into  the  house. 

"  His  Lordship  will  see  me,"  the  old  man  said  to 
the  country  footman.  "  Go  and  tell  him  it's  Bruno." 

Five  minutes  later  Charles  Thorn  and  Bruno  were 
closeted  in  the  late  Lord  Hainaults'  study.  Thorn 
sent  for  biscuits  and  wine,  and  talked  very  kindly  to 
his  old  friend,  whose  handsome  face  was  a  little  dis- 
torted on  one  side.  "  But  you  will  stay  here  with  us ; 
Bruno,"  he  said  persuasively.  "  We  can't  lose  you; 
Mrs.  Aghassy  would  be  broken-hearted  if  you  went 
away " 

The  old  man  shook  his  head,  and  sipped  his  wine 
with  the  air  of  a  connoisseur.  "  Ah,  no,  Mr.  Charles — 
tanti  scusi — Your  Lordship.  La  Signorina  Lili,  I 
shall  never  call  her  by — that  other  name  again — will 
not  mind.  She  has  the  children — I  should  say  the 
young  lady  and  gentleman;  and  then  she  also  will 
have,  with  respect  speaking,  you." 

Thorn  drew  a  deep  breath.  "  You  were  such  a  good 
friend  to  us  all,"  he  answered  sadly,  "  that  I  don't  mind 
telling  you  that  I  believe  that  that — you  know  what  I 
mean — might  have  come  to  pass  in  time,  if  it  hadn't 
been  for — the  other  thing.  I  shan't  have  to  go  abroad 

now,  but "  he  broke  off. 

315 


316  YELLOWLEAF 

Over  Bruno's  wasted,  distorted  face  crept  a  blush, 
and  his  eyes,  so  like  those  of  certain  golden-eyed  dogs, 
filled  with  tears. 

"  Mr.  Charles,"  he  said  earnestly,  "  that  danger  is 
over." 

"  No,  not  over.  Sir  Arthur  Hesketh  settled  Drake, 
and  some  of  the  tradespeople  in  the  neighbourhood 
who  had  been  chattering;  but  the  story  will  crop  up 

again,  and  then "  he  shrugged  his  shoulders 

despondently. 

Then  Bruno  unbuttoned  his  jacket  and  took  from 
his  pocket  a  flat  package,  tied  with  a  curious  twist  of 
floss  of  silk  of  a  dozen  different  colours.  "  I  tied  them 
up,"  he  said,  "  with  some  of  her  embroidery  silk  after 

I  had  read  mine "  He  then  produced  two  letters, 

and  a  small  green  leather  book  sprinkled  over  with 
golden  bees.  "  This  is  what,"  he  said,  "  I  found  under 
My  Lady's  good,  brave  hands  when  she  was  dead." 

^b.Drn  first  read  the  letter  addressed  to  the  old  man. 
It  was  beautifully  written  on  Lady  Mary's  favourite 
grey  notepaper,  with  the  name  and  address  of  the 
house  in  the  corner.  And  this  is  what  it  said,  in 
Italian : 

"  MY  DEAR,  GOOD,  AND  FAITHFUL  OLD  BRUNO, 

"  You're  such  a  pack  of  noodles,  that  you're  all  of 
you  suspecting  Signer  Charles  of  having  committed 
justice  on  that  vile,  monstrous  man.  You  think  he  did 
it.  Drake  thinks  he  did.  Poor  Mrs.  Piper  lied  nobly, 
but  she,  too,  suspects  him ;  so  the  time  has  come  for  me 
to  own  up.  /  killed  Mr.  Aghassy,  and  I'm  glad  I  did. 


YELLOWLEAF  317 

Take  this  letter  to  Sir  Arthur  Hesketh,  and  tell  him  to 
remember  the  days  when  he  was  young,  and  to  use 
his  influence  to  stop  this  silly  talk  about  Marion  Hain- 
aults'  son.  As  for  me,  my  time  is  nearly  up  anyhow, 
and  I  am  going  to  take  twenty  drops  of  my  famous 
heart  medicine.  I  need  not  tell  you  that  all  these 
things  are  secrets;  I  trust  you  as  I  trust  myself.  I 
have  left  you  a  little  money,  and  I  want  you  to  go  back 
to  Italy  to  finish  your  days,  and  I  should  like  you  to 
pray  for  me  sometimes.  I  know  you  will  always  re- 
member me. 

;<  Your  grateful  and  affectionate  friend, 

"  MARY  CATHERINE  DAMPIERRE." 

Thorn  laid  down  the  letter,  and  hid  his  mouth  with 
his  hand  for  a  moment  "  Why  didn't  you  show  this 
at  the  time  ?  "  he  asked,  without  reproach.  Bruno 
shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  What  would  have  been  the  good !  One  grief  is 
enough  at  a  time  for  any  man.  I  took  the  letter  to 
Sir  Arthur,  and  he  says  no  one  shall  ever  know." 

Thorn  then  opened  the  letter  addressed  to  himself. 
Although  it  was  towards  the  end  of  May  it  was  very 
cold,  and  a  big  log-fire  blazed  on  the  stone  hearth. 
Bruno,  after  one  glance  at  the  other  man's  face,  changed 
his  seat,  sitting  down  by  the  fire  with  his  back  to  the 
room.  Thorn's  letter  was  longer  than  the  one  to 
Bruno.  It  told  him  that  she  knew  that  he  knew  that 
she  had  done  it.  "  My  poor  Charles,"  went  on  the 
clear,  characteristic  writing,  "  every  time  you  looked  at 
me  it  was  in  your  eyes,  and  I  longed  to  tell  you  that 


318  YELLOWLEAF 

you  needn't  pity  me!  When  you  have  looked  at  this 
book  that  poor  Mrs.  Wolf  Piper  brought  me  that  day, 
you  will  know  how  I  have  grown  steadily  gladder  that 
I  had  the  courage  to  do  it.  When  you  have  read  the 
book,  burn  it.  After  you  left  him  that  night  I,  having 
told  Drake  that  I  would  sit  in  that  chair  for  a  while 
because  I  was  breathing  very  badly,  went  to  his  room, 
and  asked  him  to  bring  over  the  other  bottle  of  wine 
that  Arthur  Hesketh  gave  me.  I  had  already  put  into 
it  the  rest  of  my  heart  tonic.  You  remember  that  I 
got  another  bottle  of  medicine  the  next  day,  pretending 
to  have  upset  that  one?  He  was  in  a  terrible  rage 
against  you,  so  vile,  so  deadly,  and  so  full  of  power  to 
do  ill,  that  I  felt  no  more  pity  for  him  than  I  would 
have  felt  in  crushing  some  poisonous  snake.  I  told 
him  about  the  book,  and  that  I  had  read  it.  But  he 
only  laughed.  And  I  knew  that  he  would  try  to  bribe 
me  to  give  it  back  to  him,  a»d  he  did.  He  threatened 
to  sue  for  divorce,  with  you  as  co-respondent.  He  was 
perfectly  frank  with  me;  he  seemed  to  gloat  over  the 
dreadful  things  that  he  told  me  about  himself.  He  was 
a  genius  of  evil ;  and  then,  when  he  had  drunk  enough 
and  was  very  sleepy,  I  took  my  wine-bottle  and  went 
back  to  my  room,  pushing  my  chair  myself,  for  I 
didn't  want  him  dying  in  the  drawing-room !  I  threw 
away  the  rest  of  the  wine,  washed  the  bottle,  and  went 
to  bed.  And  that's  all.  If  nothing  had  happened  I 
shouldn't  have  ended  my  own  life,  for  I  have  been  very 
happy  lately;  but  I  couldn't  have  you  galloping  off 
across  the  world  to  change  your  name  and  live  in 
obscurity,  accepting  the  blame  here  for  what  I  had 


YELLOWLEAF  319 

done.  You  are  now  at  the  Russian  Opera,  and  I  am 
all  alone  here;  and  I  suppose  I  ought  to  be  frightened, 
but  I'm  not.  I  am  just  very,  very  old,  and  very  tired. 
You  will  never  tell  Lily  or  anyone  else  what  I  did.  for 
it  would  hurt  them  to  know.  But  you  had  better  give 
this  letter  to  Arthur  Hesketh,  to  keep  in  case  of  need. 
Good-bye,  my  dear  boy.  As  I  told  you  to-night,  I  have 
finished  my  work. 

Your  very  affectionate  Aunt, 

"  M.  C  D." 

****** 

It  had  grown  darker,  the  firelight  danced  merrily 
up  the  old  walls  and  across  the  polished  floors.  In  the 
big  chair  in  front  of  the  fire  the  good  old  friend  sat 
motionless;  his  regular  breathing  reached  Thorn's  ear. 
The  dreadful  little  book  lay  on  the  table,  and  he  picked 
it  up  and  opened  it,  and  read  a  few  words;  then  he 
dropped  it  as  if  he  had  touched  something  venomous. 
For  a  long  time  he  sat  there,  and  then  very  quietly 
went  to  the  fire  and  dropped  the  book  between  the; 
blazing  logs.  Then  he  went  to  the  window  and  stood 
looking  out.  The  sky  was  very  clear,  and  just  over  a 
big  stone  pine,  which  was  one  of  the  glories  of  the 
place,  the  evening  star  glowed  steadily.  Thorn's  sad, 
ugly  face  softened  as  he  looked  out  into  the  hopeful 
spring  evening;  and  then  it  melted  into  a  smile,  and 
very  quietly  he  opened  the  widow.  Far  off  across  the 
lawn  three  people  were  walking,  close-linked,  towards 
the  house,  and  as  they  got  nearer  his  eyes  filled  with 
tears  that  did  not  hurt,  as  he  heard  the  sound  of  a 
woman's  happy  laugh. 


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